Mia laughed, a practiced, musical sound. "You know I'm not a 'kitten.'"
She did. And she hated how much she liked it. playboy swing
"Stop the swing."
In the elevator, her hands were still shaking. But she was smiling. Because for the first time in six months, she wasn't swinging. She was standing still. And standing still, she realized, was its own kind of power. Mia laughed, a practiced, musical sound
"No. You're the one who wanted to see the real me." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "This is it. This is the playboy swing. Every girl who lasts more than a month gets a ride." "Stop the swing
She should have walked out then. The red flag was the size of a bedsheet. But Mia was thirty-two, divorced, and tired of being the sensible one. She’d married a man who made spreadsheets for fun. Leo was the antidote: risk, spontaneity, the terrifying thrill of not knowing what came next.