Page 544 of Lessons in Cruelty

I should have come up with that one, but Miss H was the brains behind the operation. I just tweaked the rules so there weren’t any loopholes.

This look? It’s the one she wore whenever she was thinking out a new game.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Miss H?”

She licks her lips, then bites down on the bottom one. “What if it’s not?”

“Not what?”

“What if it’s not just for a few days?” she asks carefully.

I clear my throat, not sure I’m understanding her right. “How long do you want to stay gone?”

She blinks, gaze unfocused for a moment before she looks at my mouth, then my eyes.

“Forever, Kai.” Her blue eyes darken, and I can’t quite tell if she’s sad or happy or hopeful. “Let’s stay gone forever.”

Chapter 71

Haven

My nose twitches at the stink of burning meat wafting through the air. Arms crossed, I lean my side against the white marble countertop, waiting for Kai to realize I’m in the kitchen with him.

Apparently, he’s too preoccupied.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters, his arm whiplashing back when he tries to lift the edge of a rib eye from the pan with his fingers.

The smoke detector blares as another column of gray smoke carries the cow’s soul to heaven.

“Need a hand?”

Kai twists to look at me, rolls his eyes, and goes back to staring at the pan. “I think I burned it.”

“Think?” I step closer, peering down into the pan at the blackened piece of meat inside. “Oh, babe, that’s not burned.”

“Yeah?” He jiggles the pan, trying to get the meat to slide around, but it just sits there, fused to the scalding hot surface.

“It’s a sacrificial offering to the God of Takeout.”

He groans as he picks up the pan and heads over to the basin, letting it fall inside with a heavy thunk. “Well, dinner’s ruined.”

I wave a hand at the mess he’s made of the counter. “Your kitchen, too. This place had better come with a maid, because I’m not cleaning that up.”

He turns the knob, the blue flame on the range winking out. “Fuck it. Takeout it is. There’s a pizza place up the road⁠—“

His green eyes widen when he sees me limping up to him, then close into wary slits when I clap my hand over his mouth.

“You’re overcomplicating this,” I murmur, smiling as I peel away my fingers from his lips.

“I wanted it to be⁠—”

My hand is on his mouth again. “Special? Perfect? Domestic? We don’t need that crap.”

I can feel his eyes on me as I go into the pantry and grab some spaghetti. There’s an unopened bottle of ketchup on the shelf that I bring with me. He looks at the ingredients in my hands, and then shrugs.

“Fuck it. Why not?”

He fills a big pasta pot with water from the faucet above the range, then nods his head to the cellar door. “Can’t have pasta without wine.”