Page 52 of Hooked

“Vaughn.” She barely stopped herself from calling him sir. He wasn’t that to her anymore.

“Working out, eh? Good for you.” His gaze dipped to the front of her formfitting racer-back tank then slid down to her roll-top, low-rise yoga pants. “Maybe if you had made the effort while we were together... But that’s water under the bridge.”

That stung. With an hourglass figure like her mother, she had curves and carried a little extra padding around her hips and thighs, but she wasn’t fat. It had taken her a long time and many hours of therapy to realize that. But having him point it out made the old insecurities come rushing back.

In unforgiving spandex, she knew every bulge and ripple was conspicuous. Although she hated herself for doing so, she self-consciously moved her gym bag in front of her, hiding her hips.

Of course, he noticed. “Those stubborn ten pounds are still dogging you I see. Too bad, dearling. Without them, I might have kept you another year, maybe two.”

His derisive words cut. She had to dig deep to maintain her composure. “I’d like to say it was nice to see you, Vaughn, but I prefer not to lie.”

Managing an air of indifference, she shrugged coolly and turned away. That was the best she could do on the spur of the moment.

“Still bitter after all this time. That’s sad. If you need help moving on, I have some older friends who might be interested.”

She spun on him. “Are you for real?”

“Olivia, clearly you aren’t over me. You’re still angry.”

“Of course, I’m angry. I devoted two years to you, and you cut me off at the knees, without warning. And where do you get off offering your ‘older friends’? You’re forty-six, Vaughn. That’s not exactly a spring chicken.”

A blonde stuck her head out the door behind him. “Mas—uh, Vaughn, sir. You forgot your wallet.”

She tried to cover it, but Livia caught her slip. She also caught the puppy dog eyes she cast his way and felt nauseous. Had she acted like that?

The girl, and she was a girl, only twenty by her guess, was five feet eight and one hundred pounds at most. If she had breasts or hips, Livia couldn’t tell.

“Thank you, Felicia.” He accepted his wallet, pinched her chin between his thumb and finger—a hauntingly familiar gesture—then turned, summarily dismissing her.

The girl’s smile slipped a bit as she went back inside.

“What happened to Allison?” Livia asked about the girl who’d come after her.

“Allison and I parted ways about a year ago. So, about those friends, John Stanton always found you attractive. I could—”

He really was a bastard. How had she been so blind?

“Didn’t we attend John’s fiftieth birthday party while we were together?”

“I believe we did. He is still a very vibrant man and active in the BDSM community.”

That put him in his mid-fifties.

She stared at him for a moment, wondering at his power over women. “You realize that while she’s buying her first legal drink, you’ll be attending your thirtieth high school reunion?”

“Don’t be petty, Olivia. Your number?”

“I’m seeing someone.” She regretted telling him as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Are you now?” The inflection in his statement said he was doubtful. “Last I heard you were a club girl. I thought I taught you better than that.” He patted his pockets as if searching for a pen. “Give me your number. I’ll call you and you’ll have mine when this guy fizzles out.”

No. In fact, hell no!

That was what she wanted to say, but after years of intimidation, she didn’t have the balls she needed to tell him that. So, she repeated coolly, “I have to go.”

Done with the conversation, she moved away, but he grabbed her arm, swinging her back.

“Please, don’t touch me.”

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