They were almost at the door when Alexander caught up with them. Isadora scowled. ‘I told Sean to wait until we’d left before he spoke to you.’
‘He didn’t say a word – I saw you walking out.’ Alexander turned to Mallory. ‘Can we talk before you run away? Please?’
‘No,’ Isadora told him. ‘We’re leaving.’
‘This is not the time, Dora!’ he snapped.
‘It’s okay,’ Mallory said to her quietly. ‘I’ll only be a couple of minutes.’
‘You’re sure?’
Mallory nodded.
‘I’ll wait right outside the door.’
‘Thank you.’ Mallory turned to Alexander; he didn’t look angry any more; if anything, he looked defeated.
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘You don’t have to run away without saying goodbye. You don’t have to be scared of me.’
‘I’m not scared of you.’ That wasn’t what was happening, not even close. ‘I just need to get out of here. I’m sorry I’ve not found you a First Mate. I’ll make sure Boris voids our contract tomorrow. You’ll receive adequate compensation.’
‘I don’t care about the fucking contract!’ He grimaced and several heads turned towards them, curious eyes wide. Alexander hissed and turned his back on them. ‘I said the wrong thing and I’m sorry – but I’m not sorry that we kissed. I’m not sorry that you came here with me. Let me come to see you tomorrow and explain when it’s just the two of us. I want,’ he drew in a breath, ‘no, Ineedto explain.’
Mallory’s heart contracted painfully; the last thing she wanted was to draw out this unmitigated disaster for longer than necessary, but neither could she deny him. She’d brought this on herself. ‘Okay,’ she whispered.
He smiled shakily. ‘Thank you. Around eleven? At your place?’
‘Okay,’ she said again. She managed a tremulous smile then glanced at Isadora who was hovering by the door and caught her eye. It was time to go home.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Thump.Mallory groaned and put her head underneath her pillow.
Thump. Thump.
The best way forward would be to hide in her bed until the apocalypse happened.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Surely there were only so many times you could replay the same event in your own head?
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
It appeared that she wouldn’t be allowed to bury her head after all; whoever was at her front door clearly wasn’t going away. She crawled out of bed, staggered out and flung it open.
From the tiny landing, Boris gave her an arch grin. ‘Good morning, Mallory. I’ll assume by your delayed appearance that you got lucky last night and there’s a delectable werewolf snoozing in your bed.’
Her only response was a grunt. She turned away and stomped into her kitchen to put the kettle on.
‘Ah. You didn’t get lucky then?’ the spriggan asked.
Lucky was not a word she would use to describe herself, not right now. ‘No,’ she muttered.
‘Do you have another hangover?’
‘No.’
