“Thank you,” she says, sounding exhausted. As if reading my, mind she breathes, “I need sleep.”
“Show me your quarters.”
She snorts, insulting me. “Yeah right.”
I raise a brow. “If your bed was large enough to hold Alex, then it should be large enough to accommodate me.”
Minnie rubs her temples. “Alexander was my boyfriend, so, yes, he got to sleep in my bed. You’re a devil I accidentally summoned into my apartment.”
“No oneaccidentallysummons a devil. No matter how much they protest.”
Minnie groans, rolling her eyes and throwing her head back. She walks past me back into the room with the mirror, turning quickly on her heels to glare at me.
“Nope. No entry.” She crosses one arm over the other, blocking me. “Unlike you, I don’t prance around naked.”
“Prance?”
She shuts the door in my face.
“Ido notprance,” I grumble.
Though she’s obtuse and haughty, she did bring me here. I may have doubted it upon seeing her, but it was a foolish thought to maintain. She summoned me for petty revenge. I won’t give it to her, but I will make the best of my time here, the plane I could only read about… until now.
Ironically, I go to her bookshelves, studying the spines. Many titles mention Dukes, Lords, and Rogues, and I consider that perhaps we have a shared interest in history. The books lack the thick binding I’m accustomed to, the spines showing their use with wrinkles and tears at the edges.
Beside the bookshelf, I spot several portraits. One is of Minnie, sitting next to an old man in a chair; the pair share the same eye shape, round and inviting, but the old man’s eyes are a warm brown, unlike her vibrant green eyes. Then there’s one of Minnie as a young girl, embracing another girl much larger in size and statue. Their smiles are wide and exuberant. I can almost hear their girlish laughter through the frame. Another portrait shows a woman holding a baby, and I at first think it’s Minnie holding her own child. Upon closer inspection, I see the woman, too, has warm brown eyes while the baby’s eyes are green. This is Minnie as a babe, then, and the woman must be her abandoned Mother.
Curious.
I turn in place, taking in the rest of the room and spotting an open door. Inside there is another bookshelf sitting at the base of the bed. I step into her room and am greeted by more well loved books. Their titles are less grand, and I take notice of several recurring names: Jenkins, Riley, and Larsen. There’s another book on her bedside table–whatever she’s reading now.
While inspecting the book, I find her bedside table drawer is ajar. I open it further, expecting more books. Instead, I find an array of paddles. I grab the one on top, made of a pale wood with hearts carved into it. There are others made of leather and even a flogger.
Curious still.
The rough sound of a clearing throat pulls my attention away from the drawer. Minnie stands in the doorway, wearing nothing but a sheet wrapped around her torso with her hands on her hips. The longer we look at each other, the deeper her brows furrow.
I grin and slip the wooden paddle back inside the drawer. “Quite the collection you have.”
She says nothing, marching over and shoving the drawer close, almost snagging the tip of my fingers.
“I was referring to your books,” I assure her.
Her dusty clay lips are thin, and she points back into the living room. I could snap at her–quite literally try and bite her finger–but I oblige her silent request with a smirk.
As I leave I ask, “Are you being silent because I said no to our contract?”
Her lack of a reply confirms my assumption.
Back in the larger room, I fall onto the lounge. Minnie looks at me, distraught, so I ask, “What could I have possibly done to upset you now?”
She buries her face in her palms. “There is a naked man on my couch…” She disappears into her bedroom, then appears with a pile of cloth. “Here, so you don’t have to… touch the cushions.” She offers me the stack, raising a brow when I do not take it from her. “Can you just lay a sheet down? Won’t you get cold lying there?”
Her anger has bubbled away. Which is disappointing. She’s cute when she’s angry.
She sets the pile on the ground and grabs one off the top, a thin but large piece of fabric. “Lay this one down and then the rest will keep you warm for tonight.”
She hands me the sheet. Again, I do not take it. The little pout I’m already fond of appears.
