I’ll win the bet, secure her place here and then think about the next steps. Perhaps wardrobe first, then I’ll get her a damn ring.
Would she even want to wear it? She wore the choker because I told her to, which was surprising. She must have thought I’m a possessive control freak, and she wouldn’t be wrong, but what about a ring that screams she’s mine?
I didn’t need to cover her love bite, nor the scratches on her arm that she’d etched into herself during the drive. No one would have dared comment. But displaying anything that would have drawn attention to her made my skin itch. I just wanted to fold her up and keep her in my pocket the whole evening. I didn’t want anyone looking at her. The murderous thoughts I endured throughout the party had me more jittery than Alfie on a bad day. And I can’t put my finger on why. Who’d have thought that the only thing people would be bothered about was something thatwasn’tthere. A fucking ring.
A dull knock sounds on the door, snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts.
Frowning, I usher Elodie in. She hasn’t been down here since I locked her in with a shock collar. I hide my grimace at the memory. Her blonde hair hangs loosely around her chest, one of my T-shirts reaches almost halfway down her thighs, which are clad in a pair of my smaller jogging bottoms, but they still make her look even smaller than she already is.
“What do you want?” I ask, going back into the torso with my scalpel.
Elodie gingerly steps in. “I just wanted to…”
I peer up at her and notice the colour’s drained from her face as she stares down at the dead naked man laid out on the table before me.
Smirking, I say, “What’s the matter, never seen a man cut out another man’s organs before?”
She gulps dramatically. “No, actually, I haven’t.”
“Well, get used to it,” I say, turning my attention back to the torso. “You’ll be seeing a lot more while you’re living here if you continue to snoop around this house.”
This snaps her out of her ill-looking haze. “I’m bored. There’s nothing to do.”
“Go train with Alfie.”
“Already have. He’s gone for a job and Fiz… He keeps touching my ass.”
A spike of irritation zings up my spine. “So, you thought you’d come stick your nose around here. I see.”
“I can go.” She goes to walk out the door.
“No, stay,” I call, not exactly knowing why. “I mean… You can stay.”
Elodie steps forward again, hugging her arm. She stays quiet for a moment, then says, “You’ve got to have a strong stomach for that stuff.”
Great, small talk. My favourite.
I hold back the sigh. “I guess. It’s never bothered me. It’s my job.”
She steps farther into the room. I point to a metal table in the corner. She walks over and perches on top of it. Why has the room gotten so hot?
“Did you picture cutting up dead bodies when you were a kid?”
“I pictured doing whatever my dad wanted me to do,” I mutter.
“You idolise him.” I hear the unspoken question behind the statement.
I give her a quick glance as I lean closer over the body. “He’s given me a good life. He’s a good father. I know you don’t know anything about that.”
She snorts. “No, I wouldn’t.”
My eyes flutter closed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No,” she says, “you’re right. I have no clue what having a good parent feels like. Mum killed herself before I was old enough to really remember her. Dad’s beaten me ever since. The only one I had was Lewis. And I lost him.”
My gut twists almost painfully. I knew about all of that, I’ve read all the notes on her entire life I’d asked Milo to take for me during his research on her. I know pretty much everything about her, as I told her I would. But it’s the first time she’s mentioned her mum, or her brother, to me.
“Some of us get dealt shitter cards than others,” is all I can think to say, if only to avoid opening the can of worms about my own losses. I’m certainly not about to volunteer my own grief so she can feelconnectedto me.
