“I don’t want your money.”
She scoffs again, and the woman is the worst of humanity. I see that now. The mothers who breed their pedigree children and parade them around like show ponies.
Scarlett deserved better than that.
She deserved better than a mammy like her.
“The only thing I’ve ever wanted was for your daughter to be happy,” I tell her. “But I see why she left this place. Why she left you.”
“You know nothing,” Mrs. Albright snarls.
“I know that if ye were any sort of a mother, you’d have moved heaven and earth to find her. To avenge her. But don’t ye concern yourself with it now. She’s got a new family. One who actually looks after her.”
Twenty-Nine
Scarlett
Time to dustoff my broom. The bitch is back.
Whiskey has madehimself right at home in Rory’s place.
I’m still waiting for him to ask where the cat came from or why he’s here, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t ask anything, and he doesn’t tell the cat to get out of the bed or off his clothes, and on more than one occasion I’ve caught Rory petting him. Things have started to appear. Cat things. Toys and bowls and food. A litter box, even.
I didn’t buy them, so that leaves only one possible culprit.
There are things for me too. Small things. With more accumulating each day. A toothbrush. A hairbrush. A blow dryer.
They appear out of nowhere when I’m not looking.
Rory doesn’t ask why I’ve spent the last week here.
That makes it easy, and it’s better this way. He’s happy and I’m not out wreaking havoc and I think the thing he loves most is having me in his bed at night. Waiting for him. Rory is a creature of habit. He comes in late at night, showers, and slips into bed behind me.
There’s always a few whispered words between us, and then he’s inside of me. On top of me.
The way he likes it.
Tonight, as we’re lying in the darkness and he’s on the verge of drifting off to sleep, I wonder how long this can go on for.
I can’t go back to my apartment.
Alexander is out for blood and I can’t be lounging around Rory’s all day and getting soft.
I need to find him first.
I need to end this.
“You haven’t been back to your apartment.”
Rory’s voice startles me.
He always falls asleep after he fucks me.
Tonight, though, Whiskey is on his chest, purring up a storm. I’m a little miffed that the cat has taken a liking to him so quickly. I had to earn that shit. But Rory? He was in with bro code and a single pat on the head.
Typical fucking men.
“Would you rather I were home in my own bed then?” I ask.
