Page 48 of Jesse

“Why are you doing this?”

“To get even, of course.”

“What happened to forgive and forget?”

“In the light of day, and not under the influence of roofies, I find it highly overrated.”

“Ha! I knew that was all bullshit!”

“It wasn’t bullshit. I just decided to rethink my new code of ethics after you had your happy little hate fuck last night. Which, by the way, doesn’t count.”

“Oh, no?” I laugh.

“No. Because we didn’t fuck.”

“I got you. I got you good.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I’m the one who got you off.”

“Pig.”

“Oh, that reminds me. I’ll pick you up in an hour and don’t forget to wear the pigtails. I really—like really—dig that look on you. See you soon.”

The call drops and I just look at it in my hand for a moment. He wishes. I am not going anywhere with him. And if I was, I certainly wouldn’t be wearing pigtails.

My phone buzzes an incoming text.

“Now what?” I mutter. But when I glance down at the screen I see a pic. I pick up my phone to get a better look, because it’s a piece of paper with lots of little writing on it.

I zoom in and read the top of the page.

City General Hospital Lab Results.

Shit. Then I say it out loud. “Shit.” Because there it is. In black and white.

Patient Jesse Boston.

Blood tested positive for flunitrazepam.

Dated this morning, time-stamped at seven AM.

My phone buzzes again.

A text from the jerk:

Unless you want to watch me tell my harrowing story of how four cosmetics moguls lost their minds on TV tonight, I highly suggest you be outside your building in one hour. Wearing pigtails.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - JESSE

I’m outside. Where are you?

That’s what I text to Emma once I pull up in front of her building. She’s testing me but I’m ready for her today. I am willing to overlook the drugging and the kidnapping—but no one walks out on me the way she did last night.

No one.

So am I being petty and childish by demanding that she spend the day with me learning her lesson?

Absolutely.