Page 4 of The Naughty List

“WHAT IN THE EVER-LOVING FUCK IS GOING ON IN HERE?” I shriek, my eyes widening in horror as I take in the guy I’ve been dating for the past few months. Shit, Nana tried to tell me he was a piece of shit but I defended him. I told her she just didn’t know him like I did, but she was right. Nana was always right.

Marc’s head snaps up, looking just as horrified as I feel. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for people exploring their kinks and being freaky little devils, but why the fuck does he have to do it in my home? As far as I’m aware, I’ve never given him a key, and I sure as hell have never given him the idea that he could use my home as a fucking sex chamber.

“Blair. I—”

“OUT,” I demand, needing to turn away, unable to look at him. This isn’t the clean-cut successful lawyer who’s always gone out of his way to impress me. I don’t even know the man standing before me.

“Blair, please. I can explain,” he rushes out as the woman unclips the ring gag from around her mouth, clearly realizing that whatever is going on here is over.

“I don’t need an explanation,” I tell him, unease blasting through my veins. “I’ve seen enough. You broke into my apartment to live out some kind of BDSM fetish bullshit, probably thinking I’d be at work and you’d never get caught. I mean, you’re a lawyer. Tell me how many laws you just broke when you stole my key and let yourself in here to fuck some bitch—no offense,” I say, my gaze flicking toward the woman.

“None taken,” she says with a shrug, getting to her feet. And damn it, I hate how insecure her killer body makes me feel about my own.

Keeping my attention locked on Marc, I continue. “In case you haven’t worked it out, we’re done. Don’t ever come back here again.”

“Blair—”

“OUT NOW,” I roar again, taking a page out of Dwayne’s book and pointing my finger toward the door as humiliation and anger burn through me like liquid rage. “Find your shit and get out of here. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

“But I love you.”

The woman scoffs, scrunching her face at him. “Seriously? You’re going to try and throw that bullshit at her? You’re here in her apartment trying to fuck me. You don’t love her.”

Marc turns his attention to the woman as she finds her discarded shirt on my couch and pulls it on over her outfit. “Why the fuck are you still here?”

She scoffs at him. “At this point, I think I’m more welcome than you are.”

“Neither of you is welcome in my home,” I tell them. “Now get out before I call the police. I’m sure that would look great on your sparkly little record.”

Marc clenches his jaw. “Can you at least allow me a moment to get dressed?”

“You broke into my home, Marc,” I spit, not able to comprehend why the hell he’s still here. “If this was a home invasion and the asshole asked for a glass of water after forcing his way into my apartment, I’d be searching for a baseball bat to beat the living shit out of him. So why the hell would you think I’d allow you that courtesy? Tuck your fucking limp dick back inside your . . . whatever the fuck you want to call that shit you’re wearing and leave. Otherwise, it won’t just be breaking and entering you’d be charged with, it’d be an indecent exposure charge as well. And while you’re at it, take your little whore with you.”

Rage boils within Marc’s eyes, and he strides over to my kitchen to grab his clothes off the counter before shoving his pea-sized dick back inside his latex pants. He storms right past me, and I hope for his sake that he finds somewhere to get dressed. Otherwise, he’ll have hell to pay on the streets of New York.

“I, uhhh . . . I’m still owed three hundred bucks,” the woman says, still loitering in my apartment.

“That’s not my problem,” I tell her before waving back toward the door, signaling for her to leave before I really do have to call the police. “Your payday just walked out the door, so if you want to get your money, I suggest you go and get it, but you’re not going to get it out of me.”

The woman huffs before heading to the door. Only she pauses and glances back at me. “For what it’s worth, if I knew this wasn’t his apartment, I never would have come in. Even I can admit this is a fucked-up situation.”

“You think?” I scoff.

She presses her lips into a hard line, and with that, she’s gone, leaving my apartment in peace. I follow her out into the hallway before grabbing all my shit at the door and bringing it in. Then the second I can, I slam the door, making sure to deadbolt it behind me.

Letting out a heavy breath, I fall back against the locked door, my day going from bad to worse. I knew Marc was never going to be my forever. I’ve felt real love before, and that wasn’t it. What I had with him was more like companionship, but still, I wasn’t expecting that level of betrayal. I feel completely blindsided, and now, instead of spending the rest of my day sulking on my couch about losing my job, I’m going to have to disinfect my home from top to bottom.

Oh shit. What if Marc played out his kinky little games with her on my bed?

Gross. Gross. Gross.

Bile rises in my throat, and I take off down the hall, desperate to get to my bedroom. The second I race through the door, I come to a screeching stop, finding my bedroom exactly how I left it, the few decorative pillows precisely in place.

“Oh, thank God,” I breathe, dropping down on the end of the bed, but I still feel icky about it anyway and immediately jump back to my feet. Just the thought of him sleeping in here with me last night has me rapidly tearing off all the blankets, sending the pillows flying across the room.

I need to spring clean this asshole out of my life.

After redressing my bed with fresh sheets, I pull my rubber dish gloves on, pulling them as far up my arms as they’ll go before grabbing every cleaning product in my home and going to town on my apartment. I scrub everything, pouring bleach across the tiles until my eyeballs begin to sting, and only once every surface in my apartment is clean enough to eat off, I grab my box of things from the office and dump them out on the couch. Taking the empty box, I walk around the apartment, collecting anything of Marc’s that he’s left here over the past few months, then using the same tape I stole from the office, I tape up the box and shove it out into the hallway, certain I’ll get around to shipping it off at some point over the next year or two.

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