Victoria insisted, pushing her hair behind her ear distractedly. It was long—falling down to the middle of her back—and she was used to pulling it back in a chignon. She’d let it down when she was finally able to take a shower after work, and she hadn’t had time to put it back up before Greg had stopped by her apartment. He’d never been to her apartment before. But after getting the nearly incoherent message she’d left him this afternoon, he’d evidently decided it would be wise to stop by on his way home. “I just don’t want her to be mad at me.” Victoria was wearing a clingy bathrobe, which was more than she’d been wearing last night. But she still felt self-conscious and undressed next to Greg in his expensive gray business suit and red tie. “She’s not mad at you,” Greg began, reaching out to put a conciliatory hand on her shoulder. She jerked away from his touch, unable to explain her defensive reaction. “She called me a bitch. There was nothing ambiguous about it.”
