I’d made it through the evening without being overwhelmed by dread or guilt, or just shutting down.
Didn’t she realize how important that was?
Plus, I could always situate her between me and the mirror, which meant I wouldn’t even have to see myself.
“Shh. Don’t move,” Laurel said, and I froze, on high alert.
“What is it?” I asked, and she pointed behind me. I slowly turned to find a pair of deep, dark eyes looking at me cautiously. Muppet had jumped onto the back of the couch, having apparently decided to brave approaching Laurel, despite my presence.
“That’s it? The cat?” I said, but Laurel wasn’t listening.Instead, she was scratching the couch next to her, trying to coax the cat over.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” she said, and made some tsk-like noises.
“Mrrow?” Muppet chirped hopefully, picking his way to Laurel behind my head.
She leaned over and scratched his chin, and the cat started purring.
“He’s never come out when other people are around,” Laurel said, stroking her hand down Muppet’s back, and I couldn’t help feeling a little flattered. “It’s the only reason Father doesn’t know he exists.”
I turned and Muppet widened his eyes, flattening himself against the couch, ears back as if I’d struck at him.
“Don’t scare him,” Laurel scolded.
I snorted, about to say something sarcastic, but the noise scared Muppet and his paw lashed out. “Ow, fuck,” I said as he clipped me beneath my eye.
Muppet hit and ran across the hardwood floor and skidded hard, bunching up a rug before scrambling under a chair. Who had given that cat a licence to drive?
I touched my face and found blood. “Motherfucker,” I said, wincing.
He was skinny but packed a punch.
“It’s not his fault, you scared him,” Laurel said.
I looked at her in shock. “I snorted.”
“He’s got anxiety,” Laurel continued. She looked worried as she stared at the chair he was cowering beneath, and I sighed. I fished the key out of my pocket and unlocked the handcuffs so she could go and check on him.
It was probably his plan all along, the sneaky snake.
She approached the chair, cooing soft little noises and gently stretching her arm out toward him.
She seemed so soft like this. So sweet.
Trying to comfort a scared little bag of bones that lashed out when he got scared.
Asshole cat.
Asshole cat who I was totally jealous of.
SIXTY
FINCH
I was antsy as I sat at the bar on Ringside, sipping my ginger beer and keeping an eye on the black door Laurel had vanished through half an hour ago. I’d been reviewing recordings today, and had reviewed the one of her meeting with the Lucas pack and her father. They’d tried to have her removed from her duchess position, but she’d swiftly and effectively foiled them. It was unnerving, because I was developing a grudging respect for her. Seeing her perform as the duchess in the suite; she was brilliant. Fighting back against her father and these alphas any way she could—just like we were.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I opened it to see her message.
Laurel: Please call this off. It’s risky and pointless.
