Blake's POV
My jaw tightened. "The second one."
"Jesus Christ, Blake." Ford's voice was fully alert now. "After everything she put you through? After you spent months waiting for her to die so you could move on? What the hell were you thinking?"
That was the problem. I hadn't been thinking. Not with my brain, anyway.
"I wasn't," I admitted, staring at the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. "We went to the casino bid announcement last night. She wore this f*****g red dress that looked painted on. She was talking to Richard Jones, of all people, and I just—"
"Got jealous," Ford finished, his tone a mixture of disbelief and judgment. "Like clockwork. She's still playing you, man. She has always been able to tie you in knots."
"It wasn't like that," I said, though I could
