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I’m glad I stayed.

A slow grin pulls at my mouth.

She’s going to be the death of me.

And the worst part?

I already know I’ll let her.

I press the note to my mouth, smiling like a love sick motherfucker.

“This woman has me fucked up.”

By the time I shower, shave, and pull on jeans and a faded T-shirt, I’ve decided two things.

One, I’m going to finish the album she inspired.

Two, when I see her again, I’m going to fuck her hard as punishment for leaving me to wake up without her.

My woman has a lot of nerve.

I make it halfway down the hall toward the studio when Mrs. Han appears around the corner looking like she just witnessed a murder.

“STEPHEN!”

I nearly drop my phone.

“What the fuck?”

She storms toward me, clutching her phone in one hand and what appears to be three separate newspapers in the other.

Her hair is slightly disheveled. Her reading glasses are crooked.

And she looks furious.

“What happened?”

She thrusts her phone into my face.

“THIS happened!”

I take it from her and look at the screen.

And everything in me goes still.

And there we are.

Me and Artemis.

One photograph catches her backed against the glass walls of my bedroom, my hands holding her naked ass, my mouth at her throat. In another, she’s down on her knees looking up at me while I tower over her.

The videos are worse.

Pornographic worse.

The angle. Her hands wrapped around my throat. My forehead pressed to hers between kisses.The way I look at her when I think nobody else exists.

Someone filmed us through the glass walls of my own fucking mansion and watched us in the one place I thought she could be safe with me.