Page 69 of The Invitation

And wait.

And wait.

But he doesn’t come.

And I’m enraged.

Where the hell is he when I actually need him?Calm down.I close my eyes, working on doing exactly that, but all I can hear are my own damn questions chasing circles in my mind. What is this? What’s happening? Why the big, elaborate effort to bend me to his will? And why does he walk away when Idobend?

I stand, so fucking angry, and take one step toward the door.

It opens.

I stop.

And everything inside me calms in an instant. Relief is within reach. I should read into it, but I don’t. Not now.

He steps in and closes the door, and my breathing goes to shit. I can’t wait for him to decide when I get to lose myself. I need this. So I go to him, circling his shoulders and taking his mouth with confidence and conviction.

And frown.

His shoulders feel . . . smaller.

His lips feel . . . different.

“Christ,” someone says against my mouth. A man.

Not Jude.

I’m frozen, my brain trying to catch up with what’s happening. Not fast enough. The door swings open again, and the steam escapes, allowing me to see whose lips are stuck to mine. My horror is instant, and I retreat, staring through the haze at an alarmed-looking man.

“Oh. My. God,” I squeak. He appears as frozen as I feel, blinking rapidly.

“What the fuck?”

I startle at the sound of a furious voice and find Jude through the haze, standing on the threshold of the steam room, his face a picture of rage.

“It’s not ... I didn’t ...” I don’t have a chance to plead my case. Jude grabs the man and drags him out of the steam room. “Jude!” I yell,going after him. My horror multiplies when I find he’s got the poor, unexpecting guy pushed up against the nearest wall. “Jude!”

“What the fucking hell do you think you’re playing at?” he yells in his face, as the guy fights Jude’s hands away from his chest.

“Calm the fuck down.” The guy pushes Jude away.

“You’re fired!”

“What?”

What?

I stare at the man, noting, now that steam isn’t hampering my vision, he’s young, maybe mid-twenties, and he’s in really good shape. Fired?

“You fucking heard me.” Jude points a finger in his face. “Get your shit and get the fuck out of my hotel.”

“She—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Get out before I fuck you up, Jenson!”

“Fuck you, Jude. You’re un-fucking-hinged. I’m done.” Jenson stalks off, knocking a bale of towels off a shelf as he passes, cursing the entire way, and I stand like a useless idiot while Jude stalks in circles, constantly raking a hand through his hair.

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