I did not have friends.
I scowled and looked at the gas fireplace. Annoyed, I turned it on. It roared to life, the flames heating the front of my legs.
“See, I have used this fireplace.”
I left it on just to show her then stalked through the penthouse to the kitchen. I opened the fridge just to stare at all the food, a tangible promise to myself that I would never again starve.
There was a note in the drawer next to a wedge of cheese.
Thank you for the food. That chocolate cake was to die for!
Sparkly purple pen on yellow paper decorated with daisies.
“Why does she have so many sparkly gel pens?”
I stuck the note in my pocket almost cutting my finger on a piece of card stock. I pulled out yet another note.
Smile, handsome! You live in a penthouse.
I turned it over.
Bet you thought I was going to say something snarky about your lack of furniture. *winking face*
I snarled low in my throat.
Lexi was mocking me.
I tore through the penthouse, looking for any other notes she left.
There was one hidden in the kitchen cabinets next to the flour that said,
Yay, you’re learning how to bake. Good for you! Call me if you need tips.
Her phone number was at the bottom.
The hell? It might have been an older note because the next one found was written in aggressively loopy cursive and said,
People are pack animals. Find a fellow lone wolf.
Included was a sticker of Tinker Bell blowing a kiss.
In a never-used guest bedroom was a note on bright-purple paper.
If you want to be happy, learn to be alone without being lonely. Or get a roommate.
Screw her.
I liked being alone. I had spent eleven years cooped up with a dozen other people.
I headed back to my study and took out my stationery—heavy, slightly textured paper with my name and company logo at the top. I unscrewed the top of my fountain pen and wrote Lexi a note. Then another and another. Then I hid them aroundthe penthouse, smirking when I thought about her reaction at finding them.
The sun was rising when I placed the last note and stripped off my clothes to take a shower and face another soul-sucking day.
As I reached in to turn on the water, I was confronted with a final note, this one written in red Sharpie on a piece of plain white computer paper and taped onto the marble shower wall.
FIRE YOUR OWN DAMN CLEANER ASSHAT.
13
