I don’t want to be the one to give in and seek him out, but I want the hell out of here more than I want my pride to remain intact. Sulking around in my bedroom isn’t doing anything but extending mystay.
There’s a knock at my bedroom door, and I already know that it’s Ray bringing in my dinner tray. “Good evening,miss.”
“Hey,Ray.”
He slightly lifts the tray. “Sameplace?”
“The bed isfine.”
He places the tray on the foot of my bed and lifts the cover. “Crawfish-stuffed catfish with a Cajun cream sauce. I must warn you: it’ll clear yoursinuses.”
“I’m not worried. Everything you cook isdelicious.”
“Thank you, miss. It’s nice to prepare meals for someone who is appreciative of my culinaryskills.”
“Tristan is highly appreciative of your cooking.” I can’t believe that Ray would thinkotherwise.
“I’m referring toClaudia.”
“She doesn’t like yourcooking?”
“She’s very critical and often offers advice on how I canimprove.”
Why does that not surpriseme?
“Well, that’s ridiculous. You are magnificent and need no one’s advice. Don’t listen to that cunt.” I look up at Ray. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said something so vulgar toyou.”
“She is a cunt, and I look forward to her departure. A year is a long time to put up withher.”
I can’t stop myself from laughing at Ray. “Well, you shouldn’t be expecting her departure anytime soon. Tristan plans on letting her stay as long as she likes. He was quite clear aboutit.”
“I thought that Mr. Broussard would be eager for her to leave now that you’rehere.”
I smile, shaking my head. “I’m afraidnot.”
“Well, that’s extremelydisappointing.”
“It isindeed.”
“Mr. Broussard has been… we’ll call iteasily irritatedsince you stopped joining him fordinner.”
“Good.” I’m glad that his balls are chafed, but he shouldn’t be salty to Ray because of it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean that I’m happy he’s being short-tempered withyou.”
“I understand yourmeaning.”
“Is Mr. Broussard taking dinner in the dining roomtonight?”
“No, miss. He asked me to hold his dinner while he finalizes some business in hisoffice.”
In his office—right next to the keys. Perfect. I can slip in, do what I gotta do, pull my key, and get the hellout.
“Is there anything else that I can get for you?” Rayasks.
“Can’t think of athing.”
“All right, miss.Enjoy.”
My dignity and appetite vanish and are replaced by nausea as I mentally prepare myself for what I must do if I’m to be free of Tristan Broussard’s hold overme.
