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“Yeah…” The senator muses, and then realizing he was staring, snaps his mouth shut. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Speaking of your father,” I say, casting another glance around the room. “Where is he?”
“Who’s to say?” Wes shrugs. “I’m sure he’ll show eventually.”
“One would think.” I shrug too and turn to clap the senator on the shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, Senator. I’m going to go mingle.”
Both of them try to say something to me, but I ignore them both as I walk away. Some part of me warns against leaving Wes with Victor, where he will say God-only-knows-what. But I have to check in with Dimitri, figure out what Elaine’s problem with the senator is, and keep an eye out for Davos or any of his sycophants.
I find Elaine first, standing in the kitchen with her hands braced on the edge of the sink, her head bent as if she’s studying whatever is in there. But as I draw closer to her, I realize there’s nothing in the sink and her eyes are closed. She startles as I step up to her, and I wonder if she really still thinks I’m capable of hurting Claire. Granted, I did hurt her, though not in the way Elaine is worried about. I’ve been on her shit list nearly from the moment I brought Claire here, and now she’s acting jumpy around me. “What’s going on?” I demand.
Elaine blinks, pressing her lips together. “What?”
“What’s going on?” I repeat myself. “You haven’t been yourself for a while. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress, but I’ve never seen you this on edge.”
“I’m just tired.” She manages to smile, but her eyes don’t get the memo. “It’s been a long day.”
“A long few weeks.” I amend, waiting for her fervent nod to continue. “Especially ever since the girls came here.” I notice the way her lips press together even as her brows lift, betraying her lack of confusion. She knows exactly what I’m getting at, even if she won’t tell me.
“It’s just the change and the stress of planning the funeral and then the wake. And I’ve been coordinating with Lionel for the will reading on Monday, so…”
“What’s the deal with the senator?”
“I guess I worked for his family before.” She sighs. “He seemed to want to try and catch up on twenty years or something. Kept following me around.”
It’s not unlikely, but something about the way she says all of that strikes me as strange. I decide to let it go, just in time, because my phone chimes with a new text. I slip it out of my pocket and step away, giving Elaine space as I read the message.
I do a double take at the name on the screen and then jam my finger against the screen to get the message to open.
Jovich:
Enjoy your whore while you still can. Her breaths are numbered.
Chapter thirty-six
Claire
I don’t remember falling asleep. I don’t remember anything after feeling like my soul had been ripped out of my body, taking all of the hurt, the chaos, the pain with it. I only remember a moment of bliss following that, and then I wake suddenly.
I’m not sure, at first, what pulled me out of a sleep like death.
The room is lit only by a lamp in the corner, which casts a gentle glow through the darkness. I know where I am—I know this is Remy’s room, and I know that I’m alone. And then I hear it—the rattling of a doorknob that’s locked. I bolt upright and glance at the door, my heart pounding furiously in my chest. Something about waking up to someone trying to come into this room, where I’m naked beneath a sheet, sends immediate alarm bells going off in my head.
Do I stay quiet? Do I ask who is on the other side?
I glance around the room, looking for anything I can use in defense if it comes down to it. I’m just reaching for a heavy book on Remy’s nightstand when the doorknob shakes one last time, and then I hear the sound of footsteps retreating.
Relief washes over me, and I put it down to a drunk guest looking for the bathroom.
As if reminded by that thought, my bladder twists in need, so I gather the sheet around myself and make my way to Remy’s bathroom without turning on the light. I don’t know if I should feel dirty considering he fucked me thoroughly and then ran out, but I suppose it’s better than kicking me out. Besides, I can’t bring myself to feel shameful or wrong when I feel this damn good. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep for, but it had to have been hours because I feel recharged in spite of my physical exhaustion… I don’t know the last time I’ve felt this way.
I doubt Remy is afraid of the dark—I doubt he’s afraid of anything really—but he has a single nightlight plugged into the wall by the counter. I’m grateful for its light to drive out the darkness as my eyes are still adjusting, and it illuminates everything enough that I find the toilet without incident. I silently applaud him on shutting the lid—half the men I’ve lived with never managed to grasp the concept.
It's not until I wrap the sheet around myself again and go to wash my hands that I reach for the light switch. When I do, the sense of peace that had blanketed me before disappears entirely as a figure appears behind me. I spin around so fast I nearly slam my head into the door frame. My scream is hoarse, fading out in the middle, and I think my heart’s about to jump ship. Thank God I just peed, or I’d be soaking Remy’s sheet right now, and not in the good way.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Remy says, though he’s grinning a bit despite his claim. He’s all dressed in his suit again, though the tie has been loosened and his jacket is draped across his arm. While I think he’s telling the truth about not meaning to scare me, I think he’s certainly enjoying seeing me flustered.
“Well, you did.” I snap, letting out a shaky breath. My voice is gravelly, so I clear my throat and cross my arms over the front of the sheet.
