#Chapter363

“Nice. Sure, just fucking leave. I’m sure roaming the hotel naked will work out great for you. Oh, and by the way … it was your idea. So, your anger is a little misdirected, babycakes.”

I stop dead in my tracks, a glimmer of an idiotic idea about being Queen Carrero and having Mico shoot that Marianne woman in the eyeball flutters across my brain, and once again all my insides slump to the deck. I was so consumed with marriage before I got drunk that it’s not farfetched to assume that while intoxicated, I rolled with it. I literally crumble where I stand and clutch my face in...