Threaten us again, and you won’t enjoy the consequences.
You can try, but without our consent, there won’t be any follow-through.
Yeah, the only follow-through you’ve ever managed is putting the last stroke on one of your mother’s paintings, and when you swallow a pig’s release. Whoops, I meant your Prince Charming.
Enough.The leader of the voices barked.We aren’t quite done with playing with the girl. When we are, we move on to Mommy Dearest.
Keep to the plan, you sloppy mess, but cut yourself deeper while we wait.
ten
MAGS
Why couldn’tshe be obsessed with a man like Eze? Strong, handsome, wealthy, caring, and a genius. He did come with one drawback. Listening wasn’t his strong suit. The ass took her to the hospital instead of her place. Even though she’d demanded it.
Traitor.
Eze left his evening math class at Trinity to rush to her aid, so she couldn’t, wouldn’t, be angry at him.
When he gently picked her up as though she were a fragile, cracked egg, she sobbed into his shoulder, embarrassing both of them. He refused to take her to the gallery. In fact, he refused to speak to her until an emergency room doctor had looked her over head to toe, given her drugs, and a nurse had helped clean her face and arms.
When he told her he would return shortly, she’d assumed it had been to make arrangements for rescheduling his class, but he’d taken her keys from her tote and let himself into her work/living space.
When he walked back into the emergency room, where she was still being monitored, it was close to eight. He held the strap of one of her old school backpacks, pinched between his huge fingers, and had an unreadable expression on his face.
“The nurse just went to get paperwork for me to sign, so I can go home soon. I just need to be woken up every hour to check for a concussion, but I can set my alarm.” When he remained watching her without comment, she started to fidget.
She smoothed her hands over the hospital sheet, blanching when some of the residual grime from under her nails marred the crisp, white cotton.
“Where did you get that bag?” she asked, nodding toward the pack.
His jaw flexed, and his serious dark eyes did not look impressed with her question. She was about to ask what his problem was when the nurse returned.
Mags signed several discharge papers and listened to the nurse’s instructions. “You’ll need to have someone with you throughout the night. You were lucky that your ribs aren’t broken, as it is, you’ll be moving a bit more gingerly than normal, I imagine.”
Mags was prepared to lie about having someone for the night, when lo and behold, Eze found his voice.
“She will be staying with me. I will follow your guidelines.” As Mags opened her mouth to shoot down the lovely offer, he held up his hand, demanding silence. “A car is waiting at the entrance. I appreciate your help,” he nodded politely to the nurse.
Eze wasn’t happy, and she had a sinking suspicion she knew what it was about. He’d gone to the gallery. Bad luck, that. She would explain her long-term goals and that she had her life in hand. Her bare quarters were temporary.
Despite falling down stairwells. The further from the scene they’d traveled, Mags realized it was shock that must have made her believe she’d been pushed. It wasn’t the type of neighborhood where people feared random acts of aggression.
A slick-looking Mercedes with a man holding open the back door was waiting for them when the nurse wheeled her through the lobby doors. When the man walked toward her wheelchair, Eze stepped between them.
“No, Abeo. I have her.” Abeo gave a slight bow and went back to holding the door.
Eze gently placed her in the back seat and buckled her seatbelt. The evening became more surreal by the moment. Eze walked to the other side and slid into the backseat with her, his large frame taking up most of the space.
“Eze, I appreciate the offer of staying with me, but it isn’t necessary, I promise.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, perhaps trying to stave off a headache. “We have several things to discuss, Margaret. Your living conditions are only one of them.” Then, looking toward Abeo, who was weaving in and out of traffic like a pro, he asked, “Is everything ready for us?”
“Yes, Sir. Jol has seen to it.”
Mags had so many questions, but Eze didn’t appear to be in an accommodating mood, except that she did need one answered. “Where are we going?”
“Lansdowne Place. I have a flat there.”
