Chapter Eighty-One
I am not a happy bunny.
And this isn’t something I’m suffering silently. So far this morning, I’ve been short with Rashid, which I feel terrible about, snapped at Martha, which I don’t give a monkey’s arsehole about, and almost drop-kicked the cat over the garden wall.
Oh, and after getting me naked for yesterday’s debacle of doucheiness, I haven’t once spoken to Kai.
I’ve received his texts, but I haven’t responded, and I’ve ignored his calls. I mean, who does that to a person? Gets them so worked up that they’re writhing in a puddle of their own need, so worked up they’d sell their granny just to get to come? Who does that... just to then pull the plug?
God, I was so angry. I still am. I’d lain on the bed after Kai’s little experiment; the one where I was to be the monkey in the lab, cigarette balanced in hand. And even that’s not a very good analogy, because let’s face it, it’s not like I got to smoke one at the end.
How was it for you, darling?
Unfulfilling and frustrating and just bloody unfair! I couldn’t even finish the job myself. I was just too fricken’ annoyed—or too annoyed to frig!
No good crying over a spoiled orgasm, though, eh?
I’d say he probably timed his experiment to perfection, because I’ll need at least a week to calm down. If he were to arrive home sooner, I expect he and I wouldnotbe on good terms.
But I can’t stay angry forever, especially as a massive bouquet of flowers arrives. It’s so large I can barely see the delivery guy behind the massive glass bowl, filled with tropical blooms of all kinds. My feelings are softening somewhat as I open the card, even though I’m mentally preparing myself for the note. I’m guessing something along the lines of:Roses are red, Violets are blue, when I use my hand, I’m thinking of you.
Anything’s likely after yesterday.
As usual, I’m off by a mile. Kai’s note is much more literary.
I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes.
I am forever yours,
K x
Though a beautiful sentiment, sort of, he’s not out of the doghouse yet. And I’m no expert on flowers, but as I rearrange the stems, it seems to me that a few of these blooms look suspiciously like lady-bits.
Forsooth; flowers from the lady garden.
‘Madam.’
‘Bugger! Rashid, I didn’t hear you there.’
Rashid looks askance at the water that I’ve sloshed onto the, no doubt, irreplaceable antique hall table, his gaze flicking to the flowers that I now have in my hand. Well, the heads of a few blooms that I seem to have yanked from the bowl in shock.
‘Madam,’ he repeats, now handing me a box. A new iPhone if the box is correct.
‘What’s this for?’
‘Mr. Kai has asked that I give this to you.’
‘Hmph.’ It’s more of a sound than a word. I remove the phone and place the box down while noticing the lack of cellophane. ‘Sim card?’
‘Inside, Madam.’
‘And the number?’
‘Same-same as before; your own.’
‘Any idea why?’ I ask, frustration flooding my tone.
‘Madam?’
