Page 37 of The Cuddle Clause
I flinched so hard I nearly fell off the bed. This wasn’t a neighborly knock. This was the kind of knock that brought lawsuits or cult recruiters. Bold. Brash. Aggressive.
Groaning, I shoved off the covers and grabbed my robe. My hair was a mess, my mouth tasted like sleep and self-pity, and if it was a solicitor, they were about to get hit with both barrels of morning-Maggie.
I cracked the door open.
Seraphina. In stilettos and a backless silk slip that looked like it cost more than my first car. Her makeup looked untouched by time or gravity, and her smile made me want to shove her into a recycling bin.
“I left a very special crystal behind when I moved out,” she said with the confidence of a woman not used to being told no. “It’s mine. And I want it back.”
I will personally launch this woman into the sun.
Before I could even process the threat level of this moment, she breezed past me and into the apartment like it was hers. Not like itusedto be hers, but like she was coming home.
“Make yourself at home,” I muttered, shutting the door behind her. “Please. Rifle through my personal belongings. Truly, the place is your playground.”
She was already in the kitchen, opening drawers like the crystal might be hiding in the silverware tray. Next, she looked between the couch cushions. Then she went intomyroom.
“Oops,” she chirped when she opened the wrong door and saw my unmade bed. “Wrong room. I slept in Roman’s room.”
I crossed my arms, following her, not that I knew what to do.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to look for it?” I offered, voice tight. “I know where all the drawers are. I could text you if?—”
“Oh, no,” she said with a smile that would’ve made a snake jealous. “I have a connection to it. I’ll feel it when I’m close.”
Aconnection.What was she, a psychic?
She decided my roomwassomewhere she should look, then proceeded to open my underwear drawer. She stopped and tilted her head like she’d found a fossil.
“That’s private,” I said flatly.
She picked up a lace bralette. “This is cute. Did Roman buy it for you?”
“Nope,” I said. “But I’m thinking of wearing it to the next council meeting. You know, under a power blazer.”
The bathroom door opened.
Roman stepped out, towel around his waist, wet hair sticking up in every direction. His chest was still damp. His expression went from sleepy tooh shitin half a second.
Seraphina lit up like a Christmas tree. “Roman, darling,” she cooed. “You look... hydrated.”
He froze. His eyes darted to me like he was silently begging for rescue. She moved toward him, slow and serpentine, andrubbed herself against his arm. Like she was checking him for softness. I stared. He looked like a man about to have a stroke.
That was it. I stepped between them, smiling sweetly. “As you can see, we’re getting ready to go out, so it’s time for you to leave.”
Seraphina blinked. “Leave?”
“Yes, leave. You pushed your way in, then proceeded to rub yourself all over Roman. He doesn’t like it, and neither do I. You know where the door is. You can show yourself out.”
Her eyes narrowed. “He used to like it… a lot. I doubt that has changed since I moved out.”
I shrugged. “Everything has changed since you moved out. He’s moved on, and it’s time you do the same.”
She stared at me with the kind of rage you only see in soap operas and reality TV reunion specials. Then she glanced back at Roman, gave him one last lingering, burn-me-into-your-memory look, and strutted to the door.
Just before she walked out, she muttered under her breath, “What does he see in this bitch?”
“Did you just call me a bitch?”
