Page 60 of Tempted By the Devil

“Not true. You took them when you moved out. And gave up on our marriage.”

“I gave up on our marriage because you refused to do better!”

He rolls his eyes. “More like you never believed in me. You never helped me with my startup.”

“Which one? All of them have failed!”

“But not this latest one,” he says avidly. “That’s what I came to talk to you about. I just need a few thousand to get it off the ground?—”

“This isn’t happening right now,” Portia mumbles, covering her face with her hands. “Get out!”

“You heard the lady. Get the fuck out.”

“Buddy, I told you about touching me!”

I’ve half dragged him toward the door—where outside I’ll do so much more—before he wrenches himself free and stumbles to the ground.

Lincoln Powell is exactly as I imagined him from the pictures I’ve seen. He’s got a head of wavy hair he’s let grow past ear-length and wrinkles in his clothes and glasses that are large and self-important sit on his face.

Portia deserves so much better.

It enrages me to know she chose him. That a sorry excuse for a man had a woman like her.

He’s lucky I don’t beat him to a pulp on the spot. I would if Portia were nowhere around or if I weren’t certain it would turn me into the enemy.

“Lincoln, this better be the last time you ever come by my place. The next time I’m getting a restraining order. Are we clear?” she asks, hands on her hips. Her usual spark has returned, kindling back to life.

He glares at me. “Who’s this douche? You replace me with him?”

“None of your business. We’ve been divorced for almost two years now.”

“You’ve got five seconds to get out of my sight,” I warn calmly. “Otherwise, I’m going to break your nose. Among other things.”

My threat does its job.

Her ex-husband bolts toward the door so fast he’s practically a blur. He pauses for only half a second crossing the threshold to look back at Portia. “I’ll remember this the next time you need me.”

“That’s where your wrong—you’ve never been there when I needed you!” she calls back. She strides over to the door and slams it shut. Anger bubbles up inside her to such an extent she trembles on the spot and releases a frustrated growl. “I really can’t believe him! The fucking nerve to show up after all this time. To come intomyapartment. And for money!”

“He’s dangerous. How many times has he done this?”

“It’s been a while. I thought he had learned his lesson.”

The fact that her ex-husband has dropped by like this before makes the blood in my veins boil. It takes considerable effort for me to remain composed and not erupt in blind anger, wrenching the door open to go after him.

With violent results.

“You need to move,” I say instead.

She scoffs as if I’ve told a joke. “Jayla and I will get right on that.”

“I’m serious. He knows where you live and clearly has no problem coming by. You say he’s done this before. I can make a few phone calls and?—”

“You’ve done enough, Rafael. Seriously, thank you.”

Her face softens as she steps toward me and raises on tiptoe. She places a kiss on the edge of my jaw before rearing back.

But it’s too late—I bow my head and capture her lips in a full mouth kiss.

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