“A new laptop then. Done.” That was easy. “What else?”
“Toiletries. Shampoo, that sort of stuff.”
“Yes. We’ll arrange that.”
“And a few more clothes?” she says tentatively. “It’s only a week, but…”
“Obviously.” If she thinks this is putting me off, she’s got another thing coming. I’m delighted by the opportunity to spoil the woman I’ve been wanting. “Anything more you’d like?”
“And…” She bites her lip, clearly thinking about something she imagines I won’t approve of.
“Go on.” My heart thuds.
Say that you want me to lick your pussy for my every meal and as a midnight snack, I beg her mentally. That would be a delicious treat for me, as well as very relaxing for her. Perfect sustenance. I stare into her brown eyes, attempting to transmit the thought.
Ask for oral sex.
She gulps, and licks her lips, and for a second I think I’ve cracked telepathy and she’s going to ask for another kiss.
“Books.”
Nope. I’ll try harder next time.
“I have some hardback editions of my favourite books. And I have an eReader.”
“Of course.” I remain impassive, and as we regard each other, I fight the urge to laugh, like we’re teenagers playing a game of chicken. “And paperbacks? Those too?”
Her mouth twists into a reluctant smile. “They’re kinda emotional support books.”
“Can’t survive without them.” I’m going to spoil her with all the emotional support books she can cope with. She’ll be so well supported she’ll have the foundations of a skyscraper and reach as high.
She smiles shyly.
“Any jewellery?” I enquire.
That she dismisses with a quick shake of her head.
Pity. I have a particular piece in mind. But she didn’t sayIcan’t buy her an outrageously expensive diamond ring.
It’s a simple plan: now I’ve saved her and got her with me, I will spoil her, take revenge against her enemies, and keep her.
Ideally, she’d fall in love with me too, and ask to stay. Otherwise, the day of her exam is going to be a disaster…
8
CATERINA
There’s definitely something strange about the pictures Brody shows me. For the last week, when Brody arrives back after his workday, he presents photographs of a man or two who aren’t either of the ones who attacked me.
My bruises have healed. But along with my growing affection for Brody—okay, love it’s love, I’m stupidly in love—there’s also fear that I have been putting off acknowledging.
But the trepidation is there. The suspicion prickles my spine with each photograph and online search. I’ve been living this odd sort of life where Brody is just my excessively-kind and generous landlord, who hasn’t touched me since the night he kissed me and made me come, but who sets me aflame with every look.
And sometimes I catch him regarding me too. He turns when he realises, but he’s incredibly attentive. The tension between us is stretching out, an elastic band about to snap.
I’m beginning to see a twist of impatience in Brody’s expression now when he takes back his phone, as though he’s frustrated.
I don’t ask who the men are. But I am starting to wonder. I said yesterday that he can send me a photo during the day if he wants to. But he just shook his head, curtly.
