The Baddest Bad Boy
“Well, how about When Harry Met Sally then? That’s not a Lifetime movie.”
He pretends to pull a dagger from his heart.
“You’re killing me sweetheart. It may not be Lifetime, but it just might be the cheesiest rom-com of all time. I can’t!”
I giggle.
“Okay, okay. Let’s do action and adventure then. Mission Impossible?”
He grins while squeezing my thigh.
“That’s more like it.”
With that, Troy finds a streaming service and puts on the Tom Cruise flick. It’s good, actually. I love the physicality as well as the stunts that require a lot of derring-do. Meanwhile, I sit up on the couch and tuck myself against Troy’s shoulder, cherishing our closeness.
“Do you want me to move over a bit?” he asks with a grin.
I shake my head. “No, I like it here.”
He laughs. “You’re so weird, sweetheart, but I’m not complaining. As long as you’re comfortable, then I am too. By the way, Travis told me that Cruise actually does a lot of the stunts himself, and broke his foot or ankle or something. He’ll disown me if I don’t watch this one because it takes place in Shanghai, which I’ve only been to, oh about seventeen times.”
I giggle.
“Are you sure it’s not eighteen?”
He grins and slings a big arm around me.
“It could be twenty-five, if you count all the layovers.”
I laugh again because it’s easy to be with Troy. We’re so comfortable with one another, and secretly, I hope this turns into something long-term. After all, my best friend is married to his brother, so why not? The four of us could be friends and family.
But I know I’m getting ahead of myself. Troy and I haven’t been dating for very long, so these thoughts are wishful thinking right now.
Suddenly, a loud knock on the door causes me to jump.
“Are you expecting someone?” I ask.
He shakes his head.
“Nope. But can you get it, honey? My leg’s asleep from you leaning on it.”
I giggle. “Okay sure.” Then I stand lazily and shuffle to the foyer before swinging the door open. But it’s not a neighbor or a pizza boy who’s at the wrong place. Instead, I’m greeted by the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her hair is long and blonde, and she has those big fox eyes that are so popular on Instagram. Her mouth seems a bit too plump, but lots of ladies go overboard with the filler in their lips. I see it all the time.
“Hi, can I help you?” I begin. But the skinny woman simply pushes past me and makes a bee-line for Troy, who’s still on the couch.
“Troy, honey, it’s me. How have you been?” she asks before planting a big smooch on his lips. “Is this your housekeeper?” the woman asks before looking back at me with a critical stare. “She should really dress more professionally. Isn’t that your t-shirt, Troy boy?”
I pause, utterly stunned.
“Excuse me?” I ask. “Who are you?”
But the woman doesn’t answer, merely taking in the apartment.
“What a terrible place,” she sniffs. “Honestly, it’s ugly and boring, but don’t worry, I can make it better. Starting with hiring a new housekeeper because yours is clearly not doing her job,” she says with another pointed look my way.
I stare at my boyfriend before looking back at the woman. She really is gorgeous, even if she has a snobby expression on her face. But who is this person, and why is she at Troy’s apartment in the middle of the night? Plus, what’s gotten into him? Surely, this woman is delusional and we need to help her.
“Should I call the police?” I ask.
But Troy’s still sitting on the couch motionless, his expression one of shock. Meanwhile, the woman turns to me again.
“You’re excused for the night. Thank you so much for your service, but I’m here to take care of my fiancé now. Bye-bye!”
I open and close my mouth a hundred times before words finally come out.
“What? Fiancé? What are you talking about?”
The woman kisses Troy again, this time an open-mouthed French kiss that’s very suggestive. I practically see her tongue thrusting down his throat, but he doesn’t push her away, merely staring at her as if he’s love-struck.
“Troy, what the hell is going on here? Who is this person, and why is she here?” I demand.
The woman merely smiles cattily.
“I already told you: I’m his fiancée. God, it’s impossible to get good help these days, isn’t it? I swear, are you dumb? Or hard of hearing?”
That does it. Rage boils in my chest, and I literally stamp my foot like a child.
“I’m not the help!”
The blonde woman sniggers.
“Then who are you? I’m asking you to get out of my house. What’s his is mine, and what’s mine is his. We’re going to be married after all.”
My mind whirls because none of this makes sense. I’ve been thinking all day about my future with Troy. How maybe we’ll turn this into something long-term, perhaps with a diamond and wedding vows at the end. And now, this woman claims to be his betrothed? How is that possible?