Nevertheless, I am who I am. And Winter knows who I am. And now she’s on a date with some dipshit frat boy when we could be naked in the kitchen, elbows deep in a carton of Phish Food, taking a breather from our three-hour long sex bender.

If you’re questioning the duration in disbelief, don’t. I’ve been hard for this woman since she sauntered her pissed-off ass out of that hallway with a face covered in shit, looking like Ben Grimm.

Speak of the devil…

Light conversation from the hallway penetrates the front door of the suite. The hair on my neck stands at attention, knowing it’s her. With him.

“Thank you for the perfect date,” she calls out.

Fucking blow me.

Then a muffled response from “Ted” Theodore Logan, and the sound of her keycard sliding through the door.

Mental note: Find out who the fuck this guy is and have his car impounded.

I adjust my attention back to my papers when the door opens and Winter stomps inside, lowering the temperature in the suite at least three degrees. Which, oddly, is the least Winter-like thing she’s ever done. Typically, the room heats when she enters it.

My eyes are trained on the acquisition contract Trent sent over, but I feel her staring at me. The way I always feel her staring at me, but this time, her leering eyes slice shallow cuts all over my face.

Dragging my eyes from reading the same sentence over and over, they travel Winter’s body, from her feet to her seething stare. Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, making the corner of my mouth tug into a smirk.

“Nice date?”

Winter’s proverbial lid blows immediately. She snaps her index finger forward, pointing it directly at me. “You’re an asshole!” she yells, then turns on her heel and stomps through the hallway to her room.

What the fuck just happened?

“Uh…” I’m off my stool, making large strides her way. “Want to fill me in on the memo I’ve missed, sweetheart?”

I push Winter’s ajar door all the way open just as she exits her closet with her arms stretched wide over a stack of my suits still attached to the hangers.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Don’t sweetheart me, Aleck! You broke our deal!” Her eyes wide, and her pupils blown with fury. It occurs to me I’ve seen her playfully angry and even mostly perturbed, but I’ve never seen her rage before.

Oh, my god, she’s literally turning into the Thing. Or maybe I got it wrong and she’s been the Hulk all along.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Winter.”

She blows a lock of her hair from her eyes with an exasperated puff, dumping the stack of suits into a pile at my feet. Then turns around and traipses back into the walk-in closet.

I follow behind her monumentally confused and a little turned on by her zeal, but I urge my dick to ignore the latter. The squeal of metal scraping against wood as she slides another armful of my suits across the hanger rod grates at my nerves.