“Stop it,” Lavender says, sounding bored. “Leave Tod alone. Is it true? Did you lock him up?”
“At least they didn’t stuff him in a suitcase and throw him in the Thames.”
“That shouldn’t be funny,” she replies with a giggle. “Though I’m not sure you’d be able to get his gangly legs inside.”
“You think?” I eye him as though measuring him for a watery Samsonite-sized coffin. “We could give it a try?”
“I’m glad you’re both having fun, but could we discuss the bit where this man held me prisoner!”
She glances Tod’s way. “The idea is becoming more tempting by the minute.”
“You did say you wanted to choke him.”
“Throttle,” she corrects, patting my cheek like I’m a cute kid and she’s an old lady. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
Tod looks momentarily worried, though he blows out a whooshing breath when she waltzes past him like he’s not standing there.
“What? Get what over with?” he whines, following. “Did you hear what I said he did?”
“I heard you.” She pivots on the heel of her boot as she reaches the small living room, pointing a menacing finger his way. I mean, it might be threatening to him, especially with that matching expression. Me? I just want to suck it into my mouth. Press my teeth over the knuckle to hear her gasp. “The thing is, Tod, I just don’t care. That should sound familiar,” she adds, canting her head to the side.
“Whaa…”
I chuckle. Lavender Whittington-Deveraux will do that to a man. Make him lose his words.Come so hard on his face he feels it like a shower of stars.
“Close your mouth, Tod. You look like a guppy.”
“Why are you being like this?”
“Because… because you’re a monumental shithead, and you’re to blame for all of this!” she explodes, her hands in the air now.
“Me? What did I do?” His attention swings to me. “He did this—he kept me prisoner!”
“Prisoner in a mansion worth thirty million? Boo-fucking-hoo.” I sound thoroughly bored. I’m not. This is as entertaining as fuck.
“I s-should call the police,” he stammers. “You’d go to prison for unlawful imprisonment.”
“Sure. If you think you can convince the police I kept you hostage when I wasn’t even in the country. Hell, take them to the house. Show the suite of rooms you stayed in.”
“Rooms I waskeptin!” he contends. “Behind locked fucking doors!”
It looks like he might be about to stamp his feet.
No. Fucking. Way. No way she’s in love with him.
She’d eat him for breakfast and spit out his bones. This… skinny string of piss must seem safe to her. No one she’d lose her heart to, at least.
No one she’d lose her heart to.
“Bars on the windows? Bread and water? It’s not like a chef prepared your choice of menu or anything. And Marco, the big Polynesian guy? I’m pretty sure he has photos on his phone of you and him playing cards.”
“People might’ve missed me!”
“No one would miss you,” I mock. The only way I can see Lavender being with him is if he was at the business end of her strap-on. And that is a thought I’m now banishing from my head.
“If you’re done with your little rant, maybe you’d like to ask what happened to me after your little stunt?” She looks fucking imperious, my raging wife.
Temporary raging wife, I remind myself.The one whose temper gives me a raging hard-on.
