Page 27 of Motion to Dismiss

Every night in bed, I close my eyes and slide a hand between my thighs, remembering exactly where his lips touched my skin, exactly how his fingers gripped my hips.

Even yesterday, when Cole pulled me close and kissed me for the first time, all I could think was, Jameson would’ve kissed me a whole lot better than this.

And now, as I stare at my reflection in the dressing table mirror, I can almost see him standing behind me, leaning down to press his lips against the back of my neck.

“You’ll always be mine…Always.”

With a sigh, I peel off my wig and start plucking bobby pins from my hair.

The second I have six months’ worth of savings in the bank, I’m booking an appointment with a hypnotist and asking them to erase every last trace of Jameson Tate from my mind.

Knockkkk! Knockkk! Knockkkk!

“Come in!” I call toward the door. “I left my costume in the corner for you.”

“Um…I’m not here for a costume.”

I glance over as a guy in a UPS uniform steps inside, carrying a massive bouquet of long-stemmed roses.

“Are you Scarlett Winters?”

“Maybe.” I turn around to face him. “Depends on who’s asking.”

“Well, uh, if you are, I have some very beautiful flowers for you.”

A smile immediately pulls at my lips, and I reach for the bouquet before a thought stops me cold.

Wait a minute.

“Who sent them?”

“Does that really matter, lady?” He gives me a look. “They were flown in overnight from Colombia. Whoever sent them must really like you.”

My smile fades.

“Who sent them?” I repeat, keeping my voice firm.

“Ugh, women.” He rolls his eyes and tugs the tag free. “It just says, From the man you still belong to. P.S. You promised your pussy would always belong to me.”

Heat rushes into my cheeks.

Of course.

“I’m refusing delivery.” I shake my head. “You can send them back.”

“Or…” He glances at the bouquet. “How about I step outside, come back in a few minutes, and tell you they’re from someone else?”

I give him a blank stare.

“Fine.” He sighs. “Can I give them to my girlfriend, then? I’m pretty sure she’d appreciate five hundred dollars’ worth of roses.”

“I hope she does.” I force a smile. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Can you at least sign for them on my keypad?”

“No.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat, unwilling to give Jameson even the slightest reason to believe I accepted them. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I don’t know you or what this guy did,” he says, taking a step back, “but it seems like he’s genuinely trying to make up for it.”