“Jesus Christ.” I make a disgusted noise. “Tell your agent to move you to a different team, and I’ll help you with getting rid of that debt. It will be worth it to get you the fuck away from here.”
“You will? See, this is why I love you.” He tries to come in for a kiss.
I swat him in the chest with the meat hammer. He grunts in pain.
“Next time, this is coming down on your knee.”
“I’m texting my agent right now,” Knox promises, skittering to the door.
“See?” I dust off my hands. “I don’t need a man, Fidget. I can handle my business on my own. Definitely don’t need Fitz’s help. We’re better off without him.”
I’m trying to reset my living room when the doorbell rings.
Ugh. The sex outfit Gran bought me.
I stumble to the door. Oftentimes, the delivery driver will just dump it in the yard, then the box gets soggy and icky, and of course, it’s raining again.
I peek outside and see a shadowy figure leaving.
There’s a black van parked past the neighbor’s house.
I retie my robe around me and grab a broom to go ahead and sweep off the leaves on the porch before they get too soggy in the rain.
I’m feeling good.
This was a weird few months, but the next quarter will be better.
We’re buttoning up our finances, going to jettison Knox. Sure, I might have to deal with him a little bit, but now he knows who’s boss. I mean business. I’m not letting my ego get wrecked by some man who can’t even manage his finances when he’s making millions of dollars a year.
“And they say women are the emotional, irrational ones.” I snort as I sweep the leaves. “Where is that package? They better not have dumped it in the bushes. I swear to god.” I poke around with the broom.
I don’t register the footsteps behind me.
Suddenly, I’m falling off the low porch into the bushes.
“What the—” I can’t scream, can’t speak. There’s rope around my throat. My heartbeat thumps in my head.
The last thing I see is Fidget barking furiously from inside the house, her breath fogging up the glass.
Fuck.
Guess I didn’t have it all under control after all.
48
FITZ
“You can’t fucking keep me here!” I thrash as my brothers manhandle me into my penthouse.
“Lock him in his sex dungeon!” Faulkner calls from a safe distance away.
Not safe enough.
I break through Crawford’s hold.
Whitman manages to grab my wrist right before I punch Faulkner in his smug, stupid face.
“You inbred little shit!” I snarl at my youngest brother.
