Page 118 of The Bonus

I’m not standing for this.

He needs to get out of this house right fucking now.

He’s one of the richest men in America, don’t tell me he can’t find a hotel.

I’m not buying it.

I storm downstairs and into the kitchen. “Gabriel, can I speak with you for a moment?” I announce.

Gabriel looks up from his cereal as if I am a major inconvenience. “Yes.”

“Alone.” I gesture to the stairs with my chin.

He rolls his eyes as I imagine myself throwing a full-blown punch to his stupid square jaw. “Back in a moment.” He fakes a smile to the kids.

I turn and march upstairs and then into my bedroom and he walks in behind me. “What?”

“Close the door,” I growl, and by the sound of my own voice, it’s clear the psychotic part of my brain has been well and truly activated.

He closes the door and puts his hands on his hips, arrogance personified. “What do you want?”

“You need to say goodbye to the children and get the hell out of my house.”

He narrows his eyes and steps forward. “I’ll leave when I am good and ready.”

“Listen here, you.” I poke him in the chest. “Your little midnight hard-on tells me that you are good and ready now, so…”

“I already apologized for that.”

“Not well enough.”

“Calm down.”

“Calm down!” I shriek. “I will not calm down.”

A trace of a smile crosses his face. “You’re annoyed about the massager.”

“I’m not annoyed, I’m fucking infuriated. How dare you invade my privacy.”

“Your son found it, what the hell did you want me to tell him, Mom’s been flogging her pussy with a fake dick?”

“You’re an animal.”

“We’ve already established this,” he fires back.

“You need to get out,” I spit.

“I’m trying,” he growls. “Stop the carry-on, do you think I want to stay here and…”

“And the wanking with the oil and the tissues…just what the fuck, Gabriel?”

“Why are you cursing so much, and come on.” He does smile this time. “You have to admit me being caught is pretty funny.”

“If you were a thirteen-year-old boy it’s funny, a grown man who is engaged to be married, it’s horrifying.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” he fires back. “It was yours.”

“How the hell is this my fault?” I shriek.

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