The Perfect Scandal

Chapter Twenty-Seven

With ten minutes left until six, I couldn't contain the excitement in my bones. Mallory had, basically, promised me an orgasm after work. That meant she'd play with me. And that meant aftercare. And aftercare meant laying in bed with her.

I packed my things up quickly and sat back in my seat, staring at Mallory as she finished her work. I watched every movement—every twitch of her lips and flicker of eyes. The sight of her, so concentrated, created a mixture of lust and gratitude deep in my bones. I was beyond appreciative of the fact that this bitchy goddess had chosen me, even if I was an easy target. I truly felt as if she helped me discover a portion of myself that I hadn't known existed. Plus, it was a part of myself that I liked. There was no chance in hell that I'd shout my enjoyment of bondage from the rooftops, but I would, most likely, feel comfortable sharing this with close friends.

What about Kalob?

Oh shut up.

Stop being a pussy and tell him you're not marrying him.

"Perhaps you should take a picture, darling," Mallory drawled, her voice husky. "It certainly would last longer."

I just hummed in response, taking a page out of Mallory's book and leaning further back into my chair. An almost unnoticeable smile graced her lips as she continued to work, and my stomach swirled in excitement. She thought I was funny, or that's what I was assuming, and it made me giddy.

I waited in my seat until Mallory was ready. I helped her file away documents, grabbed our coats off the sofa, and held every door open for her. Thinking of myself as her personal knight in shining whatever, I flashed the woman a cheesy smile once we reached our cars. She rolled her eyes and unlocked the doors via her key fob.

"Where are we going?" I called out, unlocking my door and tossing my things in the passenger seat.

"Ted's home."

Jealousy burned in my stomach, traveling up my esophagus like acid and burning my throat. It wasn't the fact that her husband was home, but that she said it so casually. It reminded me of who I was for her—a dirty mistress, and the pun wasn't intended. Would I be anything more to her? Would there be a time where I would be able to lay some kind of relationship claim to Mallory? Ted has that, and I want it.

"Oh." I deadpanned.

Instead of waiting for her response, I got into my car and buckled. I pushed my key into the ignition, started it up, and changed the radio to our local rock station. Shifting into reverse, I was ready to pull out when my window was tapped. I put my car back into park and looked at Mallory, not willing to roll my window down. Blue eyes threatened me, but I held my ground, at least until she walked around to the passenger side and got in. Wordlessly, she buckled herself. I glanced at her, about to say something before I realized that arguing with her would be stupid and futile.

I shifted into reverse again, muttering, "Where are we going, Miss Daisy?"

I didn't expect Mallory to laugh, but a throaty chuckle interrupted the current song playing.

"You're very witty today, Miss Holland. One would think that you're a slut for punishment."

Stopping at the red light, I drummed against the steering wheel, completely ignoring the question. Sparing a glance to the brunette, though I didn't necessarily want to, I noticed how little attention she was really paying to me. Her fingers actively moved against the screen of her cell phone, long legs crossed over each other. A small smile graced her lips, and her eyes, at least what I could see of them, held a certain sparkle in them, and I couldn't help but wonder what made her smile.