Undressed By His Arrogance

Third, and most maddening, was the gnawing ache still festering in her gut. Winn had a girlfriend. A gorgeous girlfriend who had cornered her in a hospital hallway and threatened to ruin her life. Ivy could still hear her voice, dripping with venom. It replayed in her mind, mocking her.

Speaking of Steve—he had called her up after work. Against her better judgment, she agreed to meet. Maybe it was nostalgia. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe she just needed to hear a familiar voice. They met at a roadside barbecue shop.

They bought skewers of roasted beef, spicy chicken wings, and walked side by side through the evening streets, their hands brushing once, then retreating.

"Please don’t tell me this counts as a date," Steve said, biting into a skewer.

"It is a date. There’s food, there’s conversation." Ivy argued.

"Oh, come on! I just..." Steve trailed off and let out a heavy sigh. His shoulders sagged, his usual cocky posture crumbling. "I have been an asshole. I know it. I want to make it up to you and this—" he gestured at the greasy paper bag in his hand, "—is not how I want to do it."

"Steve, some things have changed for me."

"See, that’s why I’m proposing the date," Steve pressed, stepping in front of her so she had no choice but to look at him. "I can afford it now, Ivy. I can afford to take care of you."

"I can take care of myself," she pointed out, her chin lifting in quiet defiance.

"You know what I mean, Ivy. I love you. I always have. I don’t see a future without you. I didn’t want to do this, I didn’t want to pressure you, but damn it—" his throat worked as he swallowed—"it just seems the longer I wait, the farther you slip away from me."

"Listen, Steve." She forced her tone steady. "I agreed to meet you because I wanted to tell you once and for all. I cannot. Like I said, things have changed for me. I cannot really explain it."

"Changed... or is it someone else?" he asked softly.

"No, not someone else." Ivy lied smoothly. Winn wasn’t the full reason she couldn’t return to Steve; the real truth was the betrayal that had cracked her wide open when she found out he’d cheated. Some scars didn’t fade with time; they only calcified, becoming part of who you were.

Even as she looked at Steve’s earnest eyes glistening in the dim streetlight, Ivy knew that love was not enough to stitch her back into the girl who once believed him without question.

"I’m not taking no for an answer," Steve said.

"I’m sorry, Steve."

"Nope, no way," Steve pressed, shaking his head as if sheer denial could rewrite reality. "I’ll wait forever if I have to. Even when I’m old and wrinkly and walking around with a third leg."

"Maybe I will consider it then." Ivy shot back, lifting her brow. Her lips curled despite herself. "There is something quite sexy about a third leg." The mental image was ridiculous, and before she knew it, laughter bubbled out of her throat. It started small, then swelled, bursting from her chest in waves she couldn’t stop.

"Sexy? You’re twisted," Steve teased, nudging her arm as.

When they finally reached the front of her house, Ivy was in fits, doubled over against the porch railing, trying to catch her breath between snorts of laughter. Her cheeks hurt, her belly ached.

At a distance, Winn sat parked in his car, engine humming low. He could see them, framed under the warm glow of the porch light, Ivy’s head thrown back, Steve’s hand brushing her arm casually, familiarly.

Her laughter—God, that laugh—he wanted it to belong to him alone.

Had she forgotten about him already? Had the pull between them been nothing more than a temporary itch she’d scratched? Winn’s throat went dry as the ghost of Irene and Evans drifted back into his mind.

They had started "innocently," too, claiming friendship, pretending boundaries existed until Winn found out their private parts had been "friends" all along. The betrayal still burned, years later, and watching Ivy now stirred that old wound into a fresh blaze.

His heart thundered, jealousy scorching through his veins.

He started his car and reversed, turning back the same way he came.

******

Monday morning, Ivy stood stiffly at the gleaming glass entrance to the House of Kane, her notepad clutched.

Behind her, the hiss of whispered voices slithered through the hall. Ivy could feel them, even when she didn’t catch the words. A couple of assistants near the coffee bar leaned toward each other, their lips curving slyly, eyes darting in her direction.

She knew the script by now: Ivy, the college dropout who somehow landed back in Kane’s good graces. Ivy, who must’ve spread her legs for the job. Their venom tried to seep into her pores. She had promised herself not to care.

The door spun and Winn stepped into the lobby. His gaze swept the room, sharp, predatory, until it collided with hers. His stride paused. The sight of her—poised, waiting hit him harder than he wanted to admit.

He rattled off a list of tasks. She scribbled, following him up the staircase as if this was all they had ever been: employer and assistant.

By the time they reached the landing, he finished. He turned, finally meeting her eyes.

"Is Joey in yet?" Winn asked.

"No," Ivy answered crisply.

"Tell him to meet me in my office as soon as he arrives," Winn said.

"Yes, sir." She answered.

He studied her face, as if looking for cracks in the mask she wore. "How is the boyfriend?" he asked. He didn’t tell her he had seen them together on Friday night. Didn’t admit that he’d sat in his car, while she laughed.

Her throat tightened. She should have told him there was no boyfriend. She should have confessed that Winn was the only man who invaded her thoughts at night, the one her body craved even when her mind screamed no. So she looked straight into his eyes, cool as glass, and lied. "He is fine, thank you."