“Should I come down to your office when I’m done?” she asks. “I bet the data was done transferring last night.”
The sudden reminder of the situation hanging over our heads is a jolt to my heart. The data is certainly done transferring, and I’m eager to get stuck in, but…
Madison can’t help me. I can’t have her in my personal space, so close to so many secrets. I can’t have her watching as I sift through the data, and I can’t tell her what I’m really looking for. She’s far too clever to accept half-truths or poor explanations, and I’d rather not lie to her at all, let alone outright. I’d hoped she would want to spend some downtime adjusting to her new surroundings, but I should have expected this.
“It might be,” I say, keeping my voice even. “But you’ve been through a lot, and you deserve to rest. Sleep, relax, have a few nice meals, watch some telly, play a computer game if you like. Maybe get to know Eleanor and Nicole, too?”
She narrows her eyes at me, then shrugs, and I swear all the air whooshes out of me at once in relief. “I am still pretty tired. It would be nice to get some more sleep.”
I nod. “I’d like to see you happy here, Madison. Think of it like a vacation. Let me take care of things for a bit—I can handle the initial data filtering.”
“Okay. You’ll come get me when you need help?”
“I will.”
Not a lie,I tell myself.I won’t be coming to get her because I don’t need her help.
32
Madison
Welcome to the Hitmen of Ulysses.
It’s been a couple of days, and I think I’m starting to get into the rhythm of the house—this group is sort of like a family, but they lack some of the togetherness habits I’m used to seeing. They don’t have meals together every day or do puzzles in front of Mexican soaps. They have an easy camaraderie, but they’re not in each other’s business. It’s more like a group of independent adult couples who have their own interests and things to do. Which, frankly, is kind of awesome.
I keep checking on Wesley, but he keeps saying he doesn’t need my help, and he acts sort of weird whenever I come into the office to hang out. When I’m sitting on the couch with Some Bills on my lap, he’ll answer my questions with short answers, but eventually I start feeling like I’m bothering him, so I leave. He did say he closes off when he’s processing, but I’m starting to get kind of antsy. And it’s not just because we haven’t acted out my fantasy of being bent over that desk…
I want to help him. But I also want him towantmy help.
I’m a little worried this is more of thatI just want to protect youbullshit. He said he’d let me know when he needed me. I guess I just have to take him at his word.
Eleanor is my unofficial house sponsor—mostly because she’s so friendly, but also because I always know exactly where to find her when I have a question, like where the extra toilet paper is, or which button on the Italian espresso machine makes the coffee come out. She’s always in the kitchen, making something that smells too delicious to pass up.
Mac seems to have endless energy as he drifts through the house; when he’s not working out or running the perimeter, he’s pestering Eleanor or they’re sneaking upstairs to bone. And they’renotsneaky. Once, they started before they got allthe way to the attic, and their love echoed through the house. Made me so horny I took Wesley’s showerhead for a spin.
I haven’t run into Nicole much, and I wonder if it’s because she’s introverted or if it’s personal. I see her walking George outside, training him with endless patience, and sometimes I see her curled up in the library in one of those massive, cushy chairs. I tried to strike up a conversation with her once—trying to get to know her, like Wesley requested—but she gave monosyllabic answers and then made some excuse about it being time to check on Dimitri’s wound. I mean, I assume it was an excuse. Maybe it was a euphemism, and they’re way more discreet when they bone.
When he’s not with her, Dimitri spends almost all day in the gym. I’ve gotten so used to the sight of him going up and down those stairs, I didn’t realize he had stopped at the landing at the top of the stairs this morning as I was heading into the office for a visit with my man.
“Madison. Come,” he said. The words were barked at me, and I nearly looked around to figure out who he was talking to, to see if he confused me with Small Dog.
“Everyone who lives here must train,” he explained.
And since Dimitri’s “explanation” was nowhere near enough, Wesley helped fill in the blanks. Everyone in the house takes self-defense lessons from Dimitri—even if you don’t want to. Even if you don’t need self-defense lessons. Even though I’m a world-class hacker “helping” process gigabytes of data from SmarTech. None of that gets me out of gym class, apparently.
So 45 minutes later, I’m red-faced, heaving breaths, already looking disgusting as I climb off the treadmill, while Eleanor and Nicole are at most a little winded. I didn’t come prepared for a workout, so I’m double-bra’d, in borrowed bike shorts from Eleanor that go past my knees, and wearing my Converses that made Dimitri’s lip curl in disapproval.
“Now that we have warmed up, we can begin,” Dimitri booms.
I don’t feel warmed up. I feel like I’m going to die.Dios,I’m out of shape.
We shuffle after him towards the corner of the room like ducklings. The floor is lined with “sparring mats” over here, which is frankly terrifying. Theylook… well-used.
“Because Madison is new to this, we will return to the basics of self-defense.”
“I know the basics of self-defense,” I cut in. If he’d let me explain myself earlier, we could’ve avoided wasting time. “Don’t backtrack on my account; I’m sure I can keep up.”
Nicole makes a noise of disbelief, and Eleanor elbows her arm with a meaningful look. My stomach twists at the unspoken exchange that makes me feel like such an outsider.
