Bursting into the ladies’ room, I find an empty stall and squat to relieve myself. Why can’t I just be normal? Before Rebel, sex had always been a tool to scratch an itch. After Rebel, it became a necessity. It’s always on my mind, keeping me constantly balancing on the knife’s edge of arousal. All it takes is a few dirty words or suggestions from him and I’m ready to combust.

I hate the control he has over me. I love the control he has over me. It’s as if my mind isn’t my own. He’s cast a spell on me, one that makes me horny as hell anytime he enters a room. One look, one touch, and I’m done for.

Well, no more. He can’t really expect me to bow to his every whim. His word is not God. He can’t make me travel to Maine with him. I won’t. I have responsibilities, and as curious as I am to find out what exactly he meant by having “plans” I refuse to buy into it. Obviously, it was a ploy. A ruthless tactic to get me to agree to go.

Well, I’m not that easy. I mean, I am, but only in bed.

Resolved to tell him exactly where I stand, I straighten my dress and leave the stall. This has got to be the fanciest restroom I have ever seen. It’s practically a spa. Hell, I’m not sure spas are even this nice.

There are giant bottles of lotion neatly aligned on smoked glass shelves next to a basket of feminine napkins and a crystal bowl filled with breath mints. I mean, come on. What kind of woman would I be if I didn’t stuff my handbag with a few items before I go?

After my bag is good and full, I head over to the sinks. Dipping my hands under the automatic faucets set to the perfect temperature, I begin washing my hands. I’m inhaling the heavenly aromatic soap when the door whisks silently open. When I look up, I see the devil staring back at me in the mirror.

Florence is the kind of woman who makes your skin crawl and insecurities you didn’t know you had rise up all at once.

She’s wearing this emerald green number that falls down her body in soft waves and her vibrant red hair is gathered and pinned on one side of her head so that it falls in delicate ringlets over her shapely shoulder.

I have the sudden urge to claw her eyes out.

Her eyes stay locked with mine as she glides up to the counter beside me. Setting a glittering gold clutch on the counter, she pops it open and begins applying a second coat of shimmering gold lip gloss to her already perfectly painted lips.

I hate her with a passion that only grows more pronounced the longer I am forced to breathe the same air. The idea that she’s been with Rebel in any way turns my stomach.

Destroying one of the artfully folded white hand towels, I pat my hands dry and toss it in the laundry bin on my way out.

“I like your dress.”

I pause before reaching the door, unsure I heard her right. Is Red paying me a compliment? Turning, I catch her eye in the mirror.

“Red is a good color for you,” she adds.

Caught off guard, I’m not sure how to react to that. I hate this woman, and yet she’s being nice to me. Running my hands down the luxurious material I say, “Thanks. Rebel—”

“Hates red, I know.” She sighs dramatically, as if it is such a terrible thing and immediately every muscle in my body tenses. “Pity you didn’t know before buying it. It’s such a lovely dress. I’d have chosen it myself if I didn’t know how adverse to the color he is.”

If that’s true, which it isn’t, then I can finally see why he threw this bitch away.

Recognizing her angle, I narrow my eyes at her reflection. She’s wearing this sympathetic smile that could almost pass as real if it wasn’t so damn fake. I know a jealous ex-lover when I see one, and she is every bit the jealous type. I saw it in her eyes that night at the club when Rebel brought her in for a couple’s lap dance, and I see it shining just as bright and alive now.

Florence thinks she can upset me with her words, with her so-called insider’s knowledge of Rebel, but what she doesn’t know is that I’m standing in a position she’ll never be in. I suddenly feel very possessive of it. Our relationship may have its share of problems, but I’ll be damned if she’ll be the one to drive the final nail. Drawing in a breath, I take a step toward her, holding my bag in front of me.

“Damn,” I say with feigned angst. “This dress was so expensive. Like a year’s salary expensive.”

Turning in her high heels, she leans against the counter, her face scrunching up in pity. “Oh, that’s terrible. And now you’re stuck wearing it in front of everyone, knowing how much he despises it. I can’t even imagine how embarrassed you must feel right now.”

“I know. It’s absolutely humiliating, right?” Taking another step, I meet her eyes and lower my voice. “I mean, Rebel paying so much money for something he hates? Ludicrous. And the way he touched me earlier, the way he looked at me?” I shake my head, touching my hand to my chest as I lay it on thick. “Now I understand why he looked like he wanted to rip the dress off my body. He hated it so much, he’d rather me be naked than wear it.”

Florence’s eyes are glazed over, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. I can practically see the gears turning in her head. “He bought it…for you?” She seems to be having trouble connecting the dots.

Seeing the opportunity laid out before me, I go in for the kill. “He did. He said I look amazing in it. So, I don’t know. Call me crazy, but maybe he doesn’t really hate the color. At least, not on me. Maybe,” I say thoughtfully, my tone growing more venomous with each word, “he just hates the color on you.” Reaching out, I flick a piece of her red hair off her shoulder, driving it home in case my words haven’t fully set in yet.

They do now, though.

Her expression crumbles as I pivot around on my way out the door. Pausing with my hand on the door, I turn. “Oh, and Florence, just so you know, we’ll be changing the locks on the apartment first thing in the morning, so you can just toss that key away since you won’t have any use for it anymore.”

I can’t contain my smile as I find my way back to our table. Rebel is standing, buttoning his suit jacket, as I come up behind him.

“Hey,” I say softly, skimming my hand over his tight ass as I come up behind him and he circles around to face me.

His smile is instant, if not a little confused. I’ve been rebuffing him all evening, and now I have the urge to put my hands all over him. I know I’m fucked up in the head and my continual back and forth method of poor decision making is enough to make a person’s head spin, but I don’t care to think about it now. After my encounter with Red, I have this animalistic desire to claim Rebel in the most primal way.

All I can think about is finding a secluded corner, tearing this monkey suit that makes his broad shoulders appear even wider off him, and screwing his brains out. Or rather, have him screw my brains out. Against a wall. In plain sight of anyone who might walk by.

Adrenalin is pulsing through me, spiking the arousal that’s traveling down between my legs and soaking my panties.

“Are you okay? You look…flushed.” Rebel touches his hand to my cheek and I turn my face into it, licking the center of his palm.

“I’m horny as hell,” I whisper for his ears only. “If I don’t have you inside me in the next five minutes, I’m going to combust. What do you say we call the car and have your driver take us for a spin around the block a few times?”

Rebel’s eyes darken, his nostrils flaring. Between us, I feel his cock punch out against his fly, pressing into my navel. Cupping my face in both hands now, he leans down to brush his lips against mine. A low moan rips through both of us, and Rebel’s kiss grows more demanding. His lips crush mine and his tongue sneaks out to taste me.

“You have the worst fucking timing,” he growls under his breath. Lifting his head, he peers down at me, the hunger in his eyes blazing like wildfire. “I’m due onstage in less than two minutes.”