Even though all I want to do is wash my hair and take a hot bath, I raise my chin.
“Where’s your powder room?”
I’m gross and still slightly horny when I walk back out in my PJs.
Truman, who is also wearing his matching PJs, trots down the hall to the living room.
He jumps up beside McCarthy, who’s sitting on the couch, drinking a scotch, shirt undone and sleeves rolled up, tie off, jacket off.
“The car is not that comfortable, Cupcake. Admit it. You were wrong. You can stay here. I’ll make you a drink. Run you a bath.”
I press my lips together.
“When I had my tongue in your pussy, you said you didn’t care about getting fired.”
He looks at the glass of brown liquid he’s swirling in his hand. If it weren’t for the fact that Truman is lying on the back of the couch next to his head, wearing his Barbie PJs and chewing on his paw, McCarthy would look like the quintessential movie villain.
“What’s the holdup? Just being stubborn for the sake of it? It won’t make me respect you more, and it can’t possibly make me want you any more than I do.”
My stomach growls.
“I’ll order you dinner.”
“I’m fine. I have a granola bar. If you wanted your cock sucked, you should have kept Sable around.”
32
MCCARTHY
Truman follows me back to my study when I slam the front door behind Jenna and all her stuff.
“This is absurd,” I tell the dog. It’s complete insanity. “Your mother is insane.”
Jenna wants me. I can feel her want, her need, simmering beneath the surface. I want her to cave to me. I don’t have mommy issues, nor do I care about her. I’m doing this to win. I’m annoyed because I hate losing, that’s all. I don’t actually care about Jenna. She’s not even a means to an end. She’s just a new toy to play with, a game to win. Once I can get her to see reason—to fall in love with me—I’ll be rid of her.
I can’t be trusted with someone loving me. That’s been made clear, horribly clear. It’s just that it’s intoxicating, like choking down seawater for years as it slowly rots you fromthe inside then, one summer day, kneeling down to drink from a glacier spring.
I need to be the center of her universe because if I’m not, I’m going to spin out to float forever in the darkness of space.
You’ll just drag her out with you.
I need to just send her to a hotel, get her away from me, and I will once I make sure no one’s going to hurt her.
Truman jumps up on my desk to bark at the image of Rex I pull up on my screen.
I want to kill him for talking to Jenna that way. He owns Vortex Industries. Maybe I’ll just ruin it instead, destroy his reputation as a businessman and send him running from Seattle in disgrace, tail between his legs.
Once I print out Rex’s photos, I study the collection of photos pinned to the board on the wall in my office. Jenna has collected an ungodly number of stalkers. Their grinning faces leer at me from the wall.
I need to see her, need to know she’s safe.
“No, Truman, it’s not spying.” I’m losing it. Now I’m talking to the dog. “You want to see your mommy, don’t you, Truman? You want to see Jenna?”
I’m doing this for the dog, not me.
I call up the cameras pointed at the car in the garage to the large TV screen mounted on one wall.
I should have put one in the car itself. It seemed like an invasion of privacy, a line too far to cross two days ago, but now? I never want her out of my sight.
