Page 104 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

I frown. “For what?”

“You got an invitation to the White House.”

For a second, I just stare at him. A giant grin breaks out across his face while I try to make sense of what he said.

“The White House?” I repeat.

He laughs as he slides a sheet of paper across my desk. “The Office of Environmental Quality is bringing in a few of the leading minds in sustainable infrastructure. Our project caught their attention.”

I pick up the letter and scan it, finding my name printed on it, clear as day.

Hugh walks around my desk and claps me on the shoulder. “Congratulations, buddy. You earned it.”

I nod, still processing. “Thanks,” I finally say.

“Bring a date,” he says, moving to the door. “Or, you know, whoever. A plus one. Long as they don’t embarrass us.”

I chuckle. “Noted.”

Easy decision for a mama’s boy. Mama’s a huge fan of Brenda Malloy.

The rest of the workday goes by without incident. I pack up and head to my car, my head on a swivel, my eyes darting left to right.

I can’t believe I’m looking for her.

I lowkey expected to see her car out here today. Kinda thought she’d be waiting on me with that sexy smile that says ‘you’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.’

But she…let me go.

Easily.

And as right as my decision was, that shit still hurts a little. I thought Raya was different, but in the end, she had no problem saying good bye.

Story of my fucking life.

In the car, a phone check reveals no calls from her. No texts.

Even after last night, nothing.

What kind of game was she playing?

That’s the question that leads me to drive my miserable ass over to her house once again.

It’s quiet inside when I ring the doorbell, so it’s easy to hear her footsteps as she shuffles toward me.

When she opens the door, she stands there, barefoot, back in her silk robe that’s barely staying tied. Her hair is wild. Her eyes are puffy. She looks fragile, but knowing what I know now, it could be another one of her illusions.

She blinks at me, silent for a second before saying, “Do you need something?”

“Yeah.” I push past her. Fuck an invitation. “I need answers.”

The casual way she rolls her eyes sets my teeth on edge. Up here acting like I’m the one in the wrong. Like she didn’t break into my house and do unspeakable shit to me in my sleep.

“Follow me,” she says flatly, passing me to climb the wooden staircase. The way our footsteps creak tells me there was no way she ever snuck in or out this motherfucker undetected.

I keep my eyes low, fighting the instinct to stare at the curve of her ass and the soft flesh at the back of her thighs. My body is a traitor, but I have a mission here, and it ain’t that.

Her bedroom is the last one on the left. She closes it behind us, pulling her belt a little tighter.

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