Page 99 of You Rock My World
And then he kisses me. Thoroughly, unrelentingly, turning me into a wobbling, shaking mess as I walk to my car.
44
DORIAN
After a few hours of playing with the guitar in my home studio, I sag on the couch in the small living room, phone in hand, the screen dark. Josie said she’d text when she got to her place. How much longer before Lily’s shift ends? Another hour, maybe two? Either way, I don’t need to hover by the phone like a needy asshole.
I drop the device onto the coffee table and lean back, shutting my eyes.
Billie’s song replays in my head, an irritating loop I can’t turn off.
Just see through the lies you tell yourself now,
I’m the storm you couldn’t handle, she’s the drizzle you allow.
Josie is convinced Billie knows. That the title is a dig at her. That the lyrics are screaming her name.
I don’t buy it.
It’s a coincidence. Billie doesn’t know a damn thing. And yet, something gnaws at me, a small crack of unease needling at my throat. Not because of the song itself—I can deal with my ex-wife writing a bitter, whiny break-up anthem. But because it’s Billie, and with her, no blow is too low, no line too far to cross.
As if on cue, the app on my phone connected to the front gate rings, meaning security is trying to reach me.
I accept the call.
“Sir?” the guard says. “We have a situation.”
I sigh, already bracing for whatever fresh hell is waiting for me. “What is it?”
“It’s your ex-wife. She’s at the gate. Demanding to be let in.”
My head drops back against the couch.Oh, for fuck’s sake.
I wonder if I should be glad or worried Billie used the front door instead of going straight for breaking and entering.
“Tell her to fuck off,” I say, rubbing my temple.
The guard hesitates, but he follows my instructions. The intercom cuts off, and I settle back, forcing myself to relax.
Two minutes pass. Five.
Then Nick strides into the living room, looking serious and composed as he carries a manila folder. His expression is grimmer than usual, and the tension in his shoulders makes my stomach drop with a bad feeling.
I brace my elbows on my knees. “What now?”
“Billie left, sir. But left this with security and said you’d want to see it.”
My gut twists. I don’t want to give Billie the satisfaction of playing her games.
But do I have a choice?
My fingers are stiff as I take the folder and flip it open. And then my lungs turn to stone as I find photographs. Dozens of them. Of Josie. Where she lives. Her entering her apartment, leaving the office, driving Penny around. Us three walking the streets on Halloween. I’m not recognizable in the picture, but Billie must know it’s me.
The next photos are even worse. Lily. Penny. Josie’s mom’s house. Me sneaking in at Thanksgiving, hopping up their front steps, oblivious to the camera snapping from fuck knows where.
At the bottom of the folder, I find a note in Billie’s scrawl.
Dump her, or I’ll leak to the press who your mystery woman is. B
