Breaking The Doormat Spell

I'm on my knees, both arms locked around my cheating husband's leg. My mouth is calling him every filthy thing I can think of. My body is begging him to stay. The cursing is real.

The kneeling isn't me. My head has never been clearer. I know exactly who I am. I have enough money to keep a dozen boy toys on retainer and never check the receipts.

Instead I'm stuck inside a story someone else already wrote. Every time his sweetfaced first love walks into a room, my arms and legs go off without me and perform. Groveling.

For a man I can't stand. He's looking down at me like I'm something on his shoe. He thinks this is a game. That I'm playing hard to get.

He has no idea that every filthy word out of my mouth is true. My jaw aches from clenching. The second I get this body back, I'm taking his life apart with my own two hands.

Two years from now, he'll sign a third of everything he owns into a trust for our child. He'll beg me not to divorce him. And by then he'll be two things to me. My kid's father.

And decent in bed. CHAPTER 1 My eyes opened. My skull was splitting. Images ran behind them, frame after frame, and they wouldn't stop.

And then I knew: I had woken up inside someone else's body. Her name was Delaney. Twentysix. Rich. She loved a man enough to get on her knees for him.

And I knew how this story was written. She would love him from the floor, all the way to the last page, and only then would he turn around.

At least she was an heiress and not some Cinderella. Money buys options. With that kind of money you could have any man in this city, and she'd bet it all on one horse. On Adrian.

I got dressed and went downstairs to find something to eat. A girl's voice floated up from the entryway, pitched high and syrupy. "Adrian, sweetie. The others already left.

We should go too." "Fine." A man's voice. Cool. Low enough to do damage. They both looked up at the sound of my feet on the stairs.

Adrian's eyebrows drew together the second he saw me. "Is this ever going to end? I'm having dinner with an old friend. It doesn't cost you your spot as my wife.

And now you're eavesdropping?" I stared at him. I hadn't said a word. I came down for food and walked into a lecture. My head was still swimming. It took a moment to place the date.

Today was the day Genevieve came home. His first love. The one that got away. Old friends were throwing her a welcomehome party.

From the minute Delaney heard she was coming back, she'd been circling him, asking the same question sideways until he lost his temper. They'd fought every day.

And every time he raised his voice, Delaney had folded and apologized.

As far as I could see, every rotten habit this man had, she'd trained into him herself. "Narcissism is a medical condition. Go get it treated. Have dinner with your old friend.

Get a hotel room after, I don't care. I came downstairs for lunch and got barked at instead.

There goes my afternoon." I said it flat, straight into his face, and I meant every syllable. Except. Something was wrong with my hands. My feet. They'd been pointed at the kitchen.

They turned. They carried me across the floor to Adrian instead. My arm lifted. Ten fingers closed on his sleeve like machinery and held.

Delaney had never spoken to him above a whisper in her life. He stood there, stunned into place. Then he looked down at my hand on his arm and his whole face cleared. "Wow, Delaney.

Playing hard to get now." "Go look in a mirror. Take your time. Nothing in there is worth the effort." That's what my mouth said. My fingers tightened on his sleeve.

I have never wanted to stab myself so badly. "Not worth it?" He laughed. "Then what is this pathetic look on your face supposed to be?" I opened my mouth to tell him to get out.

My ten fingers pulled his sleeve closer. This body was begging him to stay. On behalf of another woman. And I couldn't even control my own jaw.

CHAPTER 2 So that explained the strange pull in my cheeks. My face was doing wistful. My face was doing don'tgo.

How do you convince a man you mean it, when your body is calling you a liar? "Adrian, sweetie." Skyler tilted her head. "Delaney's clearly so worried. Just bring her along.

It'll be a little less fun, but still." Sweet as pie. She and Genevieve must have taken the same class. Thanks. It was almost helpful, right up until the last part.

Adrian ate it up, the way men do when a woman hands them permission. He pried my fingers off and yanked his arm free. I lost my balance and hit the floor.

My whole chest went loose with relief. I'd let go of him. I'd finally let go of him. The landing hurt.

That bastard frowned down at me for exactly one second, then walked out with Skyler. I sat there rubbing my red fingers. So he's got a violent streak on top of everything else.

Noted. The afternoon had left a bad taste in my mouth. I hated not being able to move my own hands. Something flickered behind my eyes that didn't belong here. That quiet room.

Someone counting slowly, close to my ear, telling me to picture myself as a clearheaded woman from somewhere else. It was gone before I could hold it. I shook my head.

Before I'd come face to face with Adrian, my body had done everything I asked. Was this the story pulling at me? Whatever. Not my problem. The old saying has it right.

Don't bet everything on one horse. So I went out and enjoyed my life. The best karaoke bar in New York, a private room, and a boy toy with eight visible abs. The liquor hit.

He kept calling me beautiful. Low, right against my ear, close enough that I felt the word before I heard it. His hand slid up my ribs and stopped there.

My pulse jumped somewhere behind my teeth. I had my mouth on his when the door slammed open hard enough to bounce off the wall. The room swam. I squinted at the doorway.

I couldn't make out a face yet, but the rage got to me first. "Delaney.

What the hell are you doing?" He hauled me out of the boy's arms and into his own, rough enough that my shin cracked against the table leg. Adrian. Of course.

The pain lit something up in me. "Are you blind? We're kissing. Making out. Sucking face. What did it look like, an oral exam?" Somebody behind him whistled.

That's when I saw the crowd. His friends. Genevieve's friends. Every single one of them enjoying this. None of them more openly than Genevieve. "You've been drinking.

Is this revenge? You don't even care about your reputation anymore." His grip was crushing my wrist, and then it came again, that awful pull. My body leaned into him.

My hands found his shirt. There was no mirror in the room, but I could feel my own face folding itself into something small and wet and pitiful. "Adrian, what is wrong with you.

You throw her welcomehome party at a karaoke bar? You've been carrying a torch for this woman for eight years. She finally comes back and you can't book a restaurant?

Dinner, drinks, a suite? You brought her here to sing?" "And if this dump is really your thing, fine, do your thing.

Why are you in my room ruining mine?" Every word came out light as air.

And my face just kept begging. "Laney." Genevieve stepped forward, eyes wide and soft. "Ade and I are only friends.

Don't get the wrong idea." Earlier that night, while my hands were busy tracing the boy toy's stomach, Genevieve, wideeyed and wounded, had sent me a photo.

Adrian in it, smiling at someone. Smiling like that.

CHAPTER 3 The photo was sharp enough to show me exactly who was reflected in his eyes. "I'm not confused," I said. "Suggesting I'm confused is an insult to my IQ." But my face was still doing its wistful thing.

And Genevieve had already explained more than anyone needed her to. Between the two of them, Adrian walked away with the version he liked best. Poor Delaney.

In love and starved for attention. He didn't want his friends watching the rest of the show. He dragged me home. My body went along without a word of protest.

I never even got to say goodbye to my boy toy. He looked so alarmed. The second we were through the door he pushed me into the bathroom and told me to brush my teeth. Shower.

I came out with wet hair. He put me down on the bed and pinned my wrists over my head. "Delaney. Stop pulling these cheap little stunts. It's disgusting." Then he kissed me.

His mouth was hard. His hand around my wrists was harder. He tasted like someone else's evening. And my spine arched up to meet him. My fingers curled into the sheet.

My chin tipped back to give him more room. None of it was mine. If I'm so disgusting, don't kiss me. My body wouldn't fight him. Fine. Only my mouth was mine. "Mm. Adrian.

Did Genevieve not finish the job tonight? So you came here to feel wanted?" "What are you, an X? Or a Y?

Because from where I'm lying you're about half a chromosome." "Is this what you two do in bed? The whole forcedseduction thing?

I never pegged you for the type." "See, this only works if both people want it. If you actually wanted to touch me, you'd learn to make it worth my while.

Genevieve and I clearly have different standards." My body kept cooperating. My mouth never stopped. By the end of it, there was nothing left of him to work with.

He looked down at himself. His face went dark. Then darker. Then he lay down, pulled the blanket up, turned his back to me, and said nothing at all. Oh no. His pride.

I was so happy. For the next few days he wouldn't let me leave the house. He took me to the hospital instead and had them run everything. Bloodwork. Scans. A full psych panel.

Every report came back clean. He was not satisfied with clean. So he found a therapist somewhere. Shady, cheap, the kind who watches the man's face while the woman answers.

He asked me a long string of questions. And then he reached a conclusion. CHAPTER 4 Years of giving, he said, without anything coming back. It had pushed me to an extreme.

In other words: an emotional adolescence. A rebellious phase. I looked at that spineless little man and did not hide what I thought of him. But Adrian was satisfied.

He even seemed to reflect on something, briefly, for the first time in his life, and then he informed me, in the tone of a man handing a coin to a beggar, that he would spend a few days at home with me.

And that I should stop making scenes. So he moved his office into the house. And Genevieve started showing up every morning, dressed to be photographed. I forgot to mention.

Genevieve works for Adrian now. She's his assistant. The explanation I got: they're old friends, she's only just back, she's still adjusting, so the job helps her settle in.

And she's very capable, of course. She'll be given more responsibility soon. An explanation with every excuse in it.

So she arrived early every day, smiling at everyone, and disappeared into the study with him. Working. Allegedly. Whatever the two of them got up to in there, I wasn't curious.

Breakfast, the three of us. Lunch, the three of us. Dinner, the three of us. A rich, full life for three. All that was missing was bedtime.

And now and then, when Adrian wasn't in the room, Genevieve liked to strut. He loves me. If you had any sense you'd bow out early. That sort of thing. No imagination. I didn't care.

What I cared about was when this body was going to be mine again, all of it. I sighed and got up for water. Turning back, someone caught my hand and tipped it, gently. A crack.

The glass went to pieces on the floor. Genevieve's dress was soaked through, and you could just about make out the lace underneath. She gave me one look. Triumphant.

Then the study door opened, and her face changed in under a second. "Laney, I promise, Ade is just a friend to me. If it upsets you, I can find another job.

I don't want to be the reason things go wrong between you." I'd seen this movie before. Adrian was already crossing the room, jaw tight. I got there first. "I know.

You're about to tell me I'm making a scene." I turned to her. "And you're about to say you didn't mean it. That the glass slipped on its own.

That I didn't throw water on you on purpose." I turned back. "And then you'll say something like, don't cover for her, Genevieve, I know exactly what she is." Adrian stopped with his mouth open.

There was nothing left for him to say. Genevieve's training was excellent. The corners of her mouth went up. Her eyes opened wide and stayed that way.

Her voice came out soft enough to pour. "Laney. How could you think that of me?" I was being made to play a woman drowning in love. From head to foot, only my mouth was mine.

The fire in my chest had climbed as high as my throat. Genevieve opened hers again.

I went to the kitchen, filled a glass with hot water, and carried it back. "That last glass," I said, looking straight at her. "It slipped on its own." I let go. "So did this one." Her scream was not a graceful sound.

She thrashed like a puppet with a hand still inside it. The glass bounced off Adrian on its way down and shattered. That wasn't enough.

I swept an entire stack of plates off the counter and threw them. Adrian didn't spare one thought for his delicate assistant.

He came straight at me and grabbed my hands. "Have you lost your mind?" I got a fist into his chest. I brought my heel down on his instep. "Yes. I've lost my mind.

What are you going to—" The porcelain glittering across the floor caught my eye and I stopped dead. What did I just do? I hit Adrian? I can hit Adrian. He had my right wrist.

I raised my left hand, not certain it would obey. The crack rang off the walls. His head snapped sideways.

I put my whole shoulder into the second one, and the sound of it went through the entire house. "I can hit you.

I can finally hit you." My hand stayed up in the air where it had stopped. My palm was burning. Adrian took half a step back and said nothing at all. Genevieve's mouth hung open.

She had forgotten, for a moment, about her foot. The third one was already on its way up when he caught my left wrist. "Delaney.

Is this ever going to end?" CHAPTER 5 My hand was still up. I hadn't stopped to think. And I had forgotten one thing about the bastard standing in front of me. He is a man.

If this came down to strength, I would lose. The smile arrived on my face before I decided on it. "Done. It's over, I'm done. Look at her, though.

Look at her foot, it's gone bright red. You should get her to a hospital before it scars." Adrian looked at me. He looked at Genevieve.

He threw my wrist away from him. "We'll settle this when I get back." Then he picked her up and carried her out the door. And I was finally free to do whatever I wanted.

That quiet room flickered behind my eyes again. The counting reached the last number. Then it cut off.

I didn't go anywhere near the two of them and their tender little hospital moment. Adrian, on the other hand, came all the way across town to ruin my date. "Delaney.

You'd degrade yourself like this, just to make me angry?" He slammed his phone down on the table. On the screen: me and the boy toy, feeding each other.

It was a good photo, actually. I'd been busy lining up my second act, and the one after that. I hadn't gone online in days. Apparently I'd been trending the whole time.

Three guesses who put me there. I finished the bite of steak in my mouth. Took a small sip of wine. And agreed with him. "Yes. I'm degrading myself. And I'm not finished.

My calendar's full for the next month." "You have no shame." He said it loudly. In front of everyone. Half the restaurant was watching now. Phones were coming out.

I threw my wine in his face. It ran off his jaw and into his collar. Somewhere behind me a woman pulled in a breath. He didn't move. "I have no shame.

But you get to play house with your ex, all day, every day, boss and assistant, and I'm not allowed to like other men." "Impressive, that double standard." "Oh.

And while I've got you." "Did you look at the postnup my lawyer sent to your office?" "We got married in a hurry.

We never signed a prenup." "I don't want a dollar of your money." "I want what I brought into this marriage. That's all." "Because I'm just a naive little thing.

You do this for a living.

One day you'd move something around, my shares would be gone, and I wouldn't even notice." Years ago, when his company was going under, no bank in the city would touch him.

Delaney's father had signed a large block of shares over to her before he moved abroad. She put every one of them up as collateral. That loan brought the company back from the dead.

People said Adrian married up. That he'd gotten where he was on his back. He never forgave her for it. He wanted her money and he wanted the moral high ground.

Say this for him, though. He was garbage, but he never went near her assets. The trouble was that after this many years the two estates had grown into each other.

Nobody could say cleanly what came before the wedding and what came after. Better to have it on paper now. That way, when the divorce comes, I walk out of here a rich woman.

Adrian dragged a hand down his wet face. His eyes went around the room, over every raised phone, like a knife. "We'll talk at home." The crowd had gotten enough footage.

I let him take me home. "I'm transferring Genevieve to the Chicago branch." "Okay." What does that have to do with me? CHAPTER 6 "And you need to stop acting out.

Those gossip pieces should be cleaned up." Adrian paused. "I'm going to let this one go. Once. Don't try a stunt like that again, because next time I won't be so reasonable.

I'll say it one more time. Genevieve is a friend.

Stop working yourself into a jealous fit over nothing." I laughed out loud. "Adrian, when you tell a lie enough times, do you start believing it yourself?

Or do you just think I'm stupid enough to believe it for you?" "What is that supposed to mean?" "You're a smart man. She left for London the same year your company was dying.

Now she's back and she'll say anything to stay in the room with you. Don't pretend you don't know exactly what she is." He opened his mouth.

I got there first. "You don't need to explain. Maybe it's your vanity. Maybe it's your pride.

You call it friendship, and you get to enjoy the fact that she once walked away from you without a backward glance, and now she can't leave you alone.

None of that is my business." "I'm saying all this for one reason. I don't love you. That's settled, in here, permanently. You think everything I do is designed to upset you.

If believing that keeps you happy, keep believing it. The feelings are over. The money still needs sorting out." My phone buzzed.

The boy toy wanted to take me to see fireworks tonight. I stood up and headed for the door. "That's everything I had to say.

As for the rest—" Adrian grabbed my arm and wouldn't let go. My dress crumpled between us. Then the blood came up in his face.

His thumb found the mark on my collarbone and stopped there. He didn't lift it. He didn't press.

The whole room went quiet around that one point of contact. "What is this?" I checked it in the black mirror of my phone and smiled. "Adrian.

You didn't think the boy and I were keeping things platonic, did you?" His jaw came open and stayed open. Something went out behind his eyes. It was worth the whole evening.

He picked me up, carried me into the master bedroom, and put me down on the bed. He kissed me hard enough to hurt.

I turned my hips, drove my knee up into him with everything I had, and shoved him off me. My clothes were a mess. I changed in front of him, unhurried. "Adrian.

Are we doing the whole forcedseduction thing again?" "Do you understand how any of this works? It's true what they say.

A man your age just can't be bothered the way that boy could." He climbed off the bed, bent double, all the color gone from his face.

I studied him for two full seconds. "You know, right now you look worse than Genevieve did when the water hit her." "You're not going out tonight." He stood in front of me, hunched, and he did not touch me again. "Why?

Still hoping to force something?" I let my eyes drift down to his waist, and I let my face say the rest. "I won't touch you.

But you're not going to him tonight, either." He'd wrung the last of the good mood out of my evening. "I'm tired.

Go sleep in the guest room." CHAPTER 7 The next morning Adrian made me watch a video. Someone was offering the boy toy money to stop contacting me. He said no at first.

At one million dollars, he said yes without blinking. "That's the man you left me for.

One million and he's gone." I looked at Adrian the way you'd look at a joke that told itself. "I wanted him young, sweetmouthed, and built. He wanted me rich, beautiful, and fun.

He'll leave for one million, so I'll bring him back with two. We're all here for a good time. What's a little money?" His jaw set. I patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, though.

I'm not the sucker in this room. Two million buys me several more just like him." He was furious. He swallowed it. "What do they have that I don't?

Whatever they can do, I can do." "You wouldn't even sign the postnup. And you want me to trust you?" "Fine. I'll sign it. But you promise me.

No more men." "All right." I hesitated first, and let it show on my face, like it cost me something. Let him sign. As for the promise. A promise runs on trust.

There has never been a single ounce of it between Adrian and me. Once he was certain I'd cheated, he became a different man. Home by six. Never a late night.

Every appointment reported to me like a schedule to a warden. He even wanted me at a partner's birthday dinner. I declined, obviously. I have no interest in the happycouple act.

I'd just peeled off a sheet mask and was getting into bed when he came home. The smell of liquor came in ahead of him. His eyes wouldn't focus.

His legs couldn't agree on a direction. He saw me and threw himself at me, and his voice cracked open like a child's. "Baby. Don't you want me anymore? I was wrong.

How can you not want me anymore?" I was wrong. Three words I had never heard from that mouth. So which was this.

Drunk enough to get his hands on me, or sober enough to use the drinking as a bridge back? Whatever he'd planned, it wasn't happening.

I pushed him off me and told him to go to the guest room. He wouldn't move. I ended up walking him there myself. I smelled the liquor on my own skin afterward.

Now I needed another shower. I picked up my phone and texted Genevieve. Thirty minutes later she was standing in my house. "He's in the guest room.

Drunk." "You can do whatever you want with him." I turned and walked up the stairs. The bedroom door clicked shut behind me.

I came out of my bedroom the next morning to find Adrian hauling Genevieve out of the guest room by the arm