An open box of condoms.
She blinked.
Then blinked again.
Her throat closed around a sound she didn’t make. Just a sharp inhale that tasted like betrayal and bile.
Her stomach clenched, and for a moment, she feared she was going to throw up.
Her hands started to shake.
But her mind—oh, her mind snapped into crystal clarity.
She didn’t scream.
She didn’t cry.
She took a long, slow breath… andpivoted. The son of a bitch was going to pay for what he’d done. And pay dearly.
They were still passed out. Perfect.
She walked—very calmly—to the nightstand and opened the drawer.
Inside?
The handcuffs.
Michael’s favorite prop. The ones where he liked to cuff her to the bed, and then she would beg him to have his way with her. Well, she was about to have her way with him, and he wasn’t going to enjoy what she planned to do.
Today,hewas going to be the one who begged.
With a level of focus she hadn’t summoned since her college finals, Aisling picked up his wrist and clicked the cuff shut then wrapped the chain around the metal pole in the middle of the headboard and snapped Samantha’s hand in the other cuff. She stirred and moaned something unintelligible but didn’t wake.
In the drawer, a Sharpie lay next to the keys.
Well…what could she do with this?
It would be rudenotto use the permanent marker.
With a practiced flick of the wrist, she scrawled the wordtinyacross Michael’s forehead, adding a bold arrow down his nose. On his chin, in aggressive black letters: dick.
The man didn’t move, but did scrunch up his nose. How much tequila had they drunk?
Samantha gotwhoreandskank. Very minimalist. Very chic.
Then Aisling took a picture. For personal satisfaction, of course.
She stared at the diamond engagement ring on her finger—the one he’d given her in Central Park under fairy lights and fake promises. The one where he’d said he was so proud she would be his wife and promised her that they would have a great life.
She slipped it off, her heart wrenching in pain.
A slow, wicked smile crept across her face.
She grabbed her gym bag from his closet. Inside was the old lock she used for her college locker. She slipped the ring onto it. Then she lifted the sheet on the bed and smiled. She looped it through the one place she knew he’d feel it—his beloved metal cock ring. With a snap, she closed the lock.
Let him try explainingthatto the ER doctor.
Keys? Oh, she had those.
