Dangerous Exes (Page 7)

“Well.” She placed a bowl of japchae in front of me and scooted it across the table. “That’s the most excitement we’ve had since Carol got drunk and took off her top during the Lord’s Prayer.”

I groaned and grabbed a fork, but it was quickly replaced with chopsticks.

Always the chopsticks with my aunt.

I was only half Chinese.

It wouldn’t matter if I was one percent Chinese, I still had no choice when I was in her domain.

The last time I tried using a fork she threatened to stab me with it.

I also wasn’t allowed to use her given name in private, it was a respect thing, so there I was with my Goo-Poh, great-aunt, wondering if she would try to stab me again just so she could brag to her friends that’s how she kept me in line.

Sometimes I wondered if Chinese foreplay was just a lot of yelling and waving of sharp objects.

With a sigh, I dug into the noodles even though I wasn’t hungry.

I knew the expectation was to eat every last bite, otherwise I’d suffer an hour-long one-sided conversation where I’d be forced to look at family albums and defend my lack of eating to my dead ancestors.

I was always too thin when I didn’t eat.

Too fat when I did.

I never won.

I gritted my teeth.

“So, he’s your boyfriend.” Goo-Poh took the seat across from me and rubbed her hands together. “He seems . . . muscular.”

The noodles revolted in my stomach and then danced around as if saying, Hell yeah, he’s muscular, let’s touch him!

I shrugged and kept eating. Ducking my head closer to the bowl.

“Isla,” Goo-Poh tsked. “Why did you not tell me about him?”

Oh you know, because he was my mortal enemy. “It’s kind of new.”

She gasped. “And you’ve already given him your treasure chest!”

I groaned. “Not this again. Aunt Betsy, I’m thirty-three years old, the treasure’s been discovered—”

“That Aiden boy never did deserve it first.” She sniffed.

I leaned back in my chair. “Not this again.”

“He had small hands.” She said it so factually I was at a loss about whether I was supposed to agree or just wait for her to keep talking. I chose the latter. “And he looked his nose down at our bowls.”

“He asked for a plate. Hardly a crime,” I grumbled.

“And then laughed when I said we didn’t have any!”

I sighed. “Goo-Poh, I came to relax and talk about anything not personal or work related, can we do that?”

She slid the bowl away from me and then handed me a cup of hot spiced tea that made my tongue burn. I choked it down anyway. “What’s this have in it? Whiskey?”

Her eyes twinkled.

“Just add day drinking to my list of new things to try.” I lifted the cup into the air and sighed.

“You’re not happy,” she pointed out. “How is that male god not pleasing you? Does he not know how to . . .” She leaned in. Oh hell, her whisper was more of a yell when she said, “Pleasure your treasure?”

“Okay, first off”—I set the cup down—“stop referring to my girly bits as treasure, it’s weird, second, he’s . . . fine.”

She gasped. “Fine!”

“No, no, Goo-Poh—”

It was too late.

She was already up.

Halfway to the door.

My stilettos against her brown Hush Puppies.

I was out of breath by the time I made it back into the activity center. Jessie was still in the crowd of men when my aunt approached.

I briefly contemplated punching an old person in the face just to distract everyone from the upcoming disaster.

Instead, I stood rooted to the floor while Goo-Poh poked Jessie in the chest with her finger and started talking so fast I couldn’t catch every word.

But the words I did hear . . .

“Tongue, patience, squeeze—”

It was enough for me to have nightmares for life.

Jessie turned redder by the minute.

And oddly enough, rather than get more embarrassed, I felt empowered as I sauntered over to them and winked while Goo-Poh finished with “I’ve drawn diagrams before, you just let me know, I email you.” She elbowed him. “You aren’t the first to experience this, you know, not the last either. I’ve had my fair share of sexual letdowns too.”

I nodded in agreement while Jessie’s jaw went slack.

She patted him on the back and yawned, then turned to me and kissed both cheeks. “Exhausted. I go to nap now, honey.”

She left with a group of her little friends while the men around us coughed uncomfortably before filtering out of the room, leaving the buzz of the TV on around us and the tension of a thousand awkward moments.

“So.” I rocked back on my heels. “You learn anything?”

“More than I’d like to, yes.” Jessie shuddered. “I’m almost afraid to ask what brought that on, because it sure as hell wasn’t my lack of performance, believe me.” He tilted my chin toward him. “If you were with me, you wouldn’t be able to walk for days.”

He dropped my chin.

Stepped back.

And just.

Left.

I stared after him.

Hating him more and more.

Hating my body’s betrayal because it should have been completely on board with the mental daggers I sent sailing toward his body.

And when my thighs clenched.

I blamed the muscle spasms on trying to sprint in heels.

It wasn’t him.

Or any effect he had on me.

This was war.

And I was going to win.

Chapter Seven

JESSIE

I sighed in contentment.

My house was quiet.

Everything had its place.

From the alphabetized cereal to the white walls and perfectly designed art pieces I’d chosen myself.

I hunted down a bottle of wine and let it breathe, just as the doorbell rang.

Chinese takeout.

It was the perfect ending to a day of warfare.

Isla wouldn’t stand a chance in hell once I was through with her.

My plan went like this: follow her, wreak havoc on her control-freak nature, and make sure she saw me in every area of her life until she woke up in a cold sweat.

I wanted her to go to her local grocery store and look over her shoulder.

To watch her favorite movies and wonder if I was watching too.

I wanted her to be as consumed with paranoia as she made me.

Perfect. Plan. I was going to throw her so far off her game that she’d be begging to go to the press and clear my name, which in turn would destroy hers.

I cracked the door open and pulled out a few twenties, then looked up when I didn’t hear the total.

“You,” I spat.

Isla grinned and waltzed in right past me, a bag of Chinese food in her hand. She put it carefully on the table and started pulling out all the different tiny boxes.

“So, how was your day?” She helped herself to a glass of wine and sat.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” Isla asked. “Aren’t you hungry?”

My stomach growled at the most inopportune moment.

She grinned. “Sit.”

“Are you poisoning me?”

“Too easy.” She scrunched up her nose. “Besides, what makes you think I didn’t already succeed in doing that?”

“Well, if that’s not terrifying,” I grumbled, moving to the other barstool and grabbing a fork.