Page 43 of Breathtaking

Grace—one of the few people who truly never wanted anything from me.

She’ll forgive me.

Even if I don’t deserve it.

I pull up her number, but a knock on the door stops me, and my heart plummets.

Maria has a key and would let herself in, and no one else knows I’m here.

No one but Maddox.

Shit.I haven’t even showered yet today.

I consider throwing a sweater on over the tiny camisole I slept in last night but decide against it. Let him look. “I’m coming.”

He knocks again, and I have the urge to yell,calm down, but I don’t and consider the restraint my first win of the morning. The tea might suck, and I may look like hell, but I didn’t threaten to castrate my baby daddy. That’s winning, right?

Good lord.My baby daddy. My mother is definitely rolling over in her grave.

With my hand on the knob, I take a deep cleansing breath and do a fluff of my boobs and my hair. I might not be jumping Maddox Beneventi’s bones ever again, but this might be the only time in my entire life I have bigger than an A cup, and I’m going to enjoy them.

Let him see what he’s missing.

That’s for his reaction yesterday.

And that thought brings a momentary smile to my face as I open the door. Unfortunately, that same smile quickly falls because the persistent ass knocking isn’t Maddox.

“Monty?” I ask, utterly confused by how and why he’s standing in front of me instead of slogging through the woods behind his family’s country home, hunting some poor animal. Confusion is quickly replaced by panic when the anger registers in the tight lines of his face.

“You don’t look like you have the flu.” He walks by me into the hotel suite, stinking like gin and cheap perfume that, no doubt, belonged to his latest mile-high club co-member. “Shut the door, Lennon. We need to talk.”

Anxiety claws its way up my chest.

“What are you doing here, Monty?” I cross the room and throw on that discarded sweater, after all. Maddox may have been allowed to look, but I don’t want Monty’s eyes anywhere on me. Especially when they hold so much disgust.

“I could ask you the same thing,darling. Generally, you don’t country hop when you’re sick with the flu. But we both know you’re not sick, don’t we?”

The curl to his upper lip. The look of revulsion...

It’s worse than our typical disdain for each other.

More.

He knows.

Oh God.

He knows.

How?

I wrap my arms around myself protectively. “I’m feeling better,” I lie, but it falls flat. I’m not fooling anyone. I’m a lot of things. A good liar isn’t one of them.

Monty shakes his head and makes an annoying clucking sound with his tongue. “Such a shitty liar. Try again, poppet—because my sources say you’re not going to be feeling better for another four months.”

He does know.

“I—”

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