Page 108 of The Casting Couch

She held up a finger.

“No drugs.Not even weed.I don’t care if you’re at a party or if your boyfriend lights up a joint in front of you.You leave, or walk away, and whatever you do, don’t get high.”

I nodded, serious now.“Got it.”

“Second, no violence.That includes fighting, threats, intimidation, breaking someone’s window with a potted plant, et cetera.”

“That’s… oddly specific.”

“You’d be surprised at what I hear in my office.”

Another finger.

“No breaking the law, period.No fraud, no scamming, no grand larceny, no impersonating an Uber driver to steal tips.I’m serious, Mitchell.You get one screw-up, and I guarantee the system will come for your ass with a goddamn marching band.”

I swallowed.“I hear you.”

She nodded once, satisfied.“Keep your nose clean, stay employed, and don’t make me chase you down.You do that?You’ll finish parole like a free man.”

There was something in her eyes then, something tired, but honest.Like she’d seen too many guys who blew it right before the finish line.

I gave her a brief salute.“No violence, no drugs, no Uber fraud.I swear.”

Then she reached into a drawer and pulled out the tiny plastic cup.

And handed it to me.

I stared down at it.

“I thought we were bonding,” I said.

She smiled for real this time.“We are.Now go pee in the cup, Mitchell.”

ChapterTwenty-Six

Nico

Iwoke up slowly, like someone coming out of anesthesia, or maybe a dream that didn’t want to let go.The sheets were still warm beside me, the imprint of a body still there, faint but real.

Bradley.

I rolled toward the empty side of the bed, smiling like an idiot before my brain was even fully online.My muscles ached in the best way.My hips, my thighs, even my abs, which, let’s be honest, aren’t exactly getting crunched on the regular.

But damn, it had been worth it.

We hadn’t just had sex.We’d made love.And yeah, I cringed a little, even thinking that phrase, but there wasn’t really a better way to describe it.Slow.Real.No script, no roles, just… us.

And now he was gone.

I sat up, squinting at the morning light slicing through the blinds.No sound from the bathroom.Nothing from the kitchen or living room either, though I thought I heard the faintest rattle of a radiator or maybe just the building groaning under its own weight.

“Brad?”I called, voice still raspy from sleep.

Silence.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand.A little thrill went through me when I saw his name right there on the lock screen.

Bradley: Meeting w/ parole officer.Hope I didn’t wake you up.

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