I haven’t seen him in three days, and those are the first words out of his mouth?
“Go to bed,” I snap, pushing at him until he sits up.
“You’re spendin’ all your money on yourself again, I see,” he mutters as I grab a trash bag from the closet and start to shove the bottles and cans into it. Usually, I would wait until he’s gone, but I’m too mad at them to delay this. I want to go to bed, too.
My mother stirs, blinking up at us in confusion. “What time is it?”
“Almost one,” I say. “Go to bed.”
“Little Miss High and Mighty only just got in,” my dad says to my mom, and she rolls her eyes.
“Where the hell’d that dress come from?” she asks, rising and stretching languidly. Neither of them attempts to clean up any of the mess they’ve made, and I try not to look at the couch.
I can smell the vomit from here.Was my mom just lying in it?
“It’s none of your business, but I borrowed it,” I mutter, my temper getting the better of me again. That’s when my dad stands, turning to me, all six feet of him. His eyes flash.
“Don’t speak to your mother in that tone,” he barks at me, and I ignore him. “Hey! I’m talkin’ to you.”
I keep cleaning up the trash around me, a red haze lowering over my vision as my mom staggers through to the bedroom without a word.
“Hey!” my dad hollers at me again, and grips my arm. I spin around, shaking him off, but as I do, my heel clips the edge of the TV unit, and I stumble, falling backward.
Something breaks beneath my hip as I land awkwardly against a group of bottles beside a bag of old takeaway food.
I land on my ass on top of something slimy and look down at a pot of sweet and sour sauce seeping into the carpet and all over my dress.
“Hah! Serves you right. Dumb bitch,” my dad mutters and follows my mom into their room.
I lay there for a minute cursing silently to myself before I pull myself to my feet. I look at the stain on the dress that I’ve ruined and fight back tears as I continue tidying up.
I glare at my parents' room as I shove endless bottles and cans into the trash bag. I hope they enjoy living in squalor once Annabelle and I are long gone.
Chapter 38
Lucas
Iwalk through my office door the following morning to find Amelia already standing in front of my desk. The surge of pleasure I see at the sight of her makes me grimace.
“Good morning,” I say, as my mind is bombarded with the images of fucking her mouth last night. I really need to get my head in the game and stop fantasizing about my assistant the second I walk through the door.
“Sorry,” she says, turning to me. “I wanted to catch you before your first call of the day.”
I would happily delay the call and bend you over my desk again.
“That’s okay,” I mutter, trying to drag my mind out of the gutter. I place my bag behind my chair and take a seat. “What did you need to talk to me about?”
I look up at her, noting the way she’s fidgeting in place. Her eyes are flitting about the room a little manically. A bolt of panic shoots through me as it occurs to me that she might be about to quit. The thought of her leaving makes my chest ache.
“It’s about something I overheard at the gala last night,” she says, and I discreetly breathe a sigh of relief.
I pull my chair under the desk, leaning forward and raising my eyebrows at her.
“What did you hear?” I ask.
“It was just before you, uh, came to find me when I was with Ambrose,” she says awkwardly as a bolt of lust races through me. “I had noticed a guy wearing a charcoal suit that didn’t exactly fit the dress code. He was super drunk.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah. I know exactly who you mean. His name’s Michael Stubbs, he’s one of the account managers at Forster and Stoke. He has a major chip on his shoulder because he didn’t get the CFO position. He’s been vying for a C-Suite job for years and ignored the dress code last night to make a point apparently. I wouldn’t worry too much about anything he said. He wouldn’t have been in the best frame of mind.”
