MAISIE
The Uber ride home is a silent, fuming blur. I push through the door of my penthouse, and the blessed, familiar quiet wraps around me like a blanket.
Roy glides over immediately, his optical sensors glowing a soft blue. He gently takes my clutch purse from my hand with his manipulator claws and whirs away to place it neatly on the console table. Good, reliable Roy. He doesn't abandon me to go hook up with random finance bros.
I kick off my deadly heels, wincing as my feet hit the cool concrete. The irritation is still there, a low simmer under my skin. That guy's hands, his smug face, the feel of his grip on my ass—it makes my skin crawl.
But layered over that, like a cold fog, is the memory of him.
Shinki Soma.
The unamused, deadly way he looked at that guy. It wasn't hot-he
