“You’re so getting off on this,” she snarls at me.
I straighten my cuffs. “I’ll bring your clothes up in a second.”
“Wait, what?” She props herself up. “What clothes?”
“I already took everything out of your car. Your clothes, your laptop bag, a lunch box—”
“Don’t open that,” she yelps.
“I just put it in the fridge. Relax.”
She scowls. It’s adorable. “How did you…”
“Find you? Your sister posted your location on Instagram. Imagine my surprise to see you there.”
“Why are you following my little sister on Instagram?”
I recognize that anger—it’s the “mess with my sibling and I’m going to throw you off a fifty-story building and sing ABBA while you fall” type of wrath.
“I promise I’m not going to hurt your sister. I just needed it as a stopgap if you went missing. She posts a lot on social media.”
“She’s addicted.”
“Sounds like my brother.”
“Better not let them get together. Wait. Stop making me like you.”
I lean in and kiss the corner of her mouth. “I’m ordering you Italian for dinner, since you can’t seem to make up your mind what you want to eat.”
Pepper sits by the oven, watching intently as the food heats up, while I call Seward with the order for Mandy. She can eat all that pasta, but I usually eat protein—though right now, I just want to eat her.
I am well aware that what I’m doing is straight-up illegal and could ruin my business, but Mandy has no sense of self-preservation. She won’t listen to what I tell her to do and waltzes around in back alleys, completely oblivious. I will not have her end up like my mother or sisters.
Mandy’s chewing on a cracker when I unlock the door again and walk in carrying a laundry basket full of her clean clothes.
“Did you wash those yourself?” she asks.
“I have a ton of little brothers.” I set down the basket on the dresser. “My dad couldn’t seem to sire girls, and my mom was usually too out of it to take care of us. Someone had to do laundry.”
“Ever the martyr.”
My head tilts. “We didn’t have electricity or a washing machine. Laundry was an all-day affair. Haul the water, chop the wood to heat the water, boil the laundry, scrub the laundry, hang it out to dry. Pressing a button is easy. After doing laundry by hand, I promised myself I was never going to do another load of laundry as long as I lived.”
“Well, don’t I feel special? And a little shitty.” She holds up a piece of cheese. “Can I get some wine to go with this?”
“Why, so you can bash me over the head with a bottle?” I put her dress on a hanger.
“Then just bring me a paper cup of wine.”
“There isn’t a single bottle of wine in this house that is worth less than a thousand dollars. I’m not serving it to you in a paper cup.”
“I promise to be a good girl.” She crooks her finger at me.
I know I shouldn’t, but I go to her.
“I’m going to be the best little prisoner,” she adds. “I’ll doanything.”
“Stop it.”
