9. Clementine
CHAPTER 9
Clementine
B reathe in
Breathe out
I am one with the universe
I am at peace
Perfectly at peace
GODDAMNIT.
It didn’t matter what mantra I chanted. The man who had humiliated me and almost ruined my life was still here.
I did not need this shit.
I was a successful costume designer, designing and sewing costumes for big theaters like the Bellevue, and the small theater in town.
I even sometimes work as the assistant director, something I was doing now for the local theater since the head director had just broken her ankle on a skiing trip.
There was a lot going on and the last thing I needed was Grayson Bentley showing up trying to make amends.
My body is at perfect peace
Aw, shit.
I wasn’t getting anything out of this yoga session except a lingering desire to kick him in the balls.
As I rolled up my mat to go inside, I saw Grayson out of the corner of my eye through the big French windows, his head quickly ducking back down to where he was doing the dishes.
Oh lovely.
Did my ex think there was even the slightest sliver of a chance he was going to get laid here?
If so, he was beyond delusional.
I stomped inside.
“Just leave, Grayson,” I said without preamble. “I don’t want you here.”
There was a muscle throbbing in his jaw as he looked at me.
“You have been assigned protection,” he ground out. “For the first few weeks after your father gets released from prison. I am here to keep you safe.”
“Send your girlfriend instead,” I shot at him. “I’d much rather see her than you.”
He flushed, even his neck turning a mottled red. “Vivi was never my girlfriend and is not my girlfriend.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “I would rather see anybody than you.”
His big chest was moving, almost like he was holding something in, and I was fucking furious at him.
“You have to submit to this,” he said stolidly. “It’s department orders that you get protection.”
I felt hot spitting fury and I wished once again I could easily throttle Grayson.
“If you stay I am not going to make it easy for you,” I warned him through clenched teeth. “I am going to do everything I can to break you.”
He said nothing, but I saw another muscle throb in his jaw, the almost convulsive movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
“I am not going to leave, Clementine,” he growled.
I reached behind my back and unsnapped my sports bra, letting my breasts fall out.
They were slick with glistening sweat after my session doing yoga in the garden and I felt a little out of breath as they rose and fell.
Grayson had never been very expressive (because he was a fucking undercover agent pretending to be my husband!), but I saw his blue eyes widen as I stood in front of him.
Fucking bingo.
This asshole wanted to fuck me.
For a moment, there was silence in the kitchen as I glared at Grayson where he stood with a cup in his hand at the sink.
Then the tea cup in his hand shattered, porcelain fragments exploding like shrapnel all into the kitchen sink, down his pants, and on the floor.
“Oh fuck, Clementine, I’m so sorry,” he said immediately.
“Clean it up then,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, my breasts pressed higher, their heavy soft weight resting on my forearms.
He hesitated for a moment, then turned around, his bulk big and imposing in the kitchen.
There’s one problem with those departmental khaki pants they all wear.
It’s very hard to hide a big-ass boner in them.
He held my eyes, but I could tell from the faint flush in his cheeks that he knew I had seen it.
“What do you think you’re doing with that?” I snapped, pointing down at his penis.
“I—Clementine, I’m sorry.”
He bent down to carefully pick up the dozens of shards of the shattered tea cup.
“I’ll replace this, I swear.”
Rolling my eyes, I huffed and marched to the door.
“Boy, if you think I’m going to give you easy pussy just because you come back here and do the dishes once, you’re fucking delusional. Give it up and leave. I don’t want you here. I’m not going to make this easy on you.”