Page 64 of The Love Syllabus

“What they’re saying is you look stunning, Kerry.”

I exhale, smiling against her shoulder. At least someone is on my side.

“Oh, Kerry!” Ms. Vicky whispers. “There’s someone I want you to meet at the restaurant tonight.” She says cryptically.

“Uh, who, exactly?”

She hugs me again and whispers against my ear. “I ran the background check, not Vic. I don’t know what happened that night, but I have discernment, and I want to helpmake things right. I told you working here will be good for you. I’ve been making a lot of friends in this town. I’m on your side, Kerry.”

The mention of my record brings me back to the reality that I’m somewhat living a lie, but I’m also trapped under my ex-husband’s hold.

Nevertheless, my attention diverts, along with everyone else’s eyes, when Victor Fucking Grimes emerges from around the corner. My blood boils, a high-temperature mix of disdain and desire, clashing so fiercely it leaves me breathless. He’s every bit of handsome and every bit of a fool.

He’s dressed in sharp, fitted black pants and a collared red shirt that clings to him like skin, outlining every defined muscle, every inch of strength and control he exudes without even trying. He oozes wealth, class, and natural dominance—an intoxicating combination that makes my knees damn near buckle.

And the worst part? He knows. He knows exactly what he does to me. Knows my body remembers his. Knows my breath hitches the second our eyes lock. He knows I’m still haunted by last night—by his touch, his mouth, the way he unraveled me with nothing but his hands and a whisper.

And he dares to look at me likethis. Like he’s sorry. Like he regrets walking away, like his body aches to mold into mine again, to pick up where we left off, to claim what he knows is still his for the taking.

But the second he opens his mouth, my mind sobers. The haze of lust and longing clears.

And I remember his transgressions against my heart, the way he discarded me this morning like I was nothing but a mistake to be forgotten. Negating our surroundings, he comes to me with his heart at the forefront.

“You look—”

I raise my hand. “I know.”

He reaches out. “I’m really sorry.”

“I know that too.” I sharply cut him off.

My chill ices out the natural heat between us, snuffing out whatever slow-burning ember hethoughthe could reignite. Though our family and friends attempt to fill the silence, laughing, chatting, and keeping things light, we remain locked in a quiet standoff. His hands flex at his sides like he wants to pull me into his embrace and fix what he broke.

But I won’t let him. Not this time. So, I step back, square my shoulders, and hold my chin high.

“It’s time for us to complete number four on our syllabus: fool the public. You’regreatat fooling people. Now, let’s do this.” I say, turning my back to him without a second glance.

During the car ride to the restaurant, we sit at opposite ends of the row, where an invisible wall of petty and principle keeps us apart. I turn away from Vic, staring out the window, determined not to acknowledge his existence.

But I can feel his eyes on me. Cold. Burning. Frustrated.

Gary immediately notices the tension, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror with amusement. “Is everything okay, Mr. Grimes? You look like you’ve lost a friend.” He smirks, oh so entertained.

Before Vic can respond, I spin around, arms folded so tight I might cut off my own circulation. “Oh no, Gary. Don’t you dare sympathize with him! He sure did lose a friend, and it’s all his wishy-washy fault.”

Gary chuckles but wisely keeps his eyes on the road.

Vic exhales heavily, dragging a hand down his face before turning toward me. “Kerry—”

“No.” I cut him off again because, quite frankly, I’m on a roll. “You don’t get toKerryme right now. You get Ms. Kind at best, and even that’s generous.”

Still determined to make up for his ideocracy, he leans in, his voice low and measured. “I felt terrible this morning, not because of last night, but because I took advantage of you. I’m your boss, and that power dynamic—” He says, so sincere, so full of remorse.

But I snap. “Boy, I am a grown-ass, 35-year-old woman. You didnottake advantage of me. I enjoyed every damn bit of what you made me feel. And the fact that you think I was too weak to make my own decision to finally experience a long-overdue orgasm is just plain insulting!”

Gary wheezes from the front seat, and I swear I feel the car slightly swerve.

Vic groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kerry, that’s not—”

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