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I logged into my banking portal to make my extra loan payment—it still felt good to be able to do so, as long as I ignored the memories of how that night ended.
My loan balance was at zero.
Odd.
Software glitch? All of my other accounts looked right. I could check back in a few hours, but a quick call to the bank would clear things up.
The woman who answered was cheerful. She probably meant to sound pleasant, but the sincerity grated on me. Did she mean it? What was she hiding from the world, under that brightness?
I couldn’t go through life questioning everyone who sounded like they meant something. “Hi. I’m calling because my loan balance isn’t showing correctly on the website.” I gave her my name and account number.
“I can check that for you, hang on.” The clacking of keys filled otherwise dead air. “Miss?”
“I’m still here.”
“Your account is fine. I show the loan paid off. I’m not sure why it’s not reflecting that for you, but give it a few hours—”
“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t have heard her correctly. “I didn’t pay off my loan. I wish I had, but no.”
“Oh.” More clacking keys. “Can I put you on hold for a moment?”
“Of course.”
I didn’t want to deal with this today, but it was better than what I’d been mired in. At least this was a problem I could confront head-on. Something I could get a solution for.
After a few minutes, the hold music vanished. “Jaelyn?” Miss Cheerful was back.
“Yes?”
“There’s no mistake. We received your check, drawn from Kingu Kafes, for the full balance this morning.”
Fuckers. “That’s right. I forgot they were sending that today. I’m so sorry to take up your time.”
“It’s fine. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Castrate the last two men I slept with. “No, thank you so much.” I disconnected.
I was so livid, I was seeing red. Apparently that was a thing. My anger had me swaying on my feet. Howdarethey? I could call and scream, but I wanted to look them in the eye and ask themwhat the actual hell?They couldn’t buy their way into my life any more than they could fuck their way into my café.
I made it to their hotel and was hammering the side of my fist on Kingston’s door before I registered confronting them in person wasn’t the best idea for me right now. They probably weren’t here anyway.
When Kingston answered the door, surprise on his face, my stomach crumpled. If it hadn’t been empty, I might have vomited on his shoes.
“Lyn.” He sounded relieved.
I was angry. And tired. But mostly angry. I shoved past him, stalling for a heartbeat when I saw Owen was there too, sitting at the desk. “What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Working?” Leave it to Owen to be understatedly direct.
I wasn’t in the mood. The room was wobbly—did anger do that? “With my loan. You can’t just go around paying off people’s loans. If you thought I was pissed about being fucked to get into my good graces, large sums of money I didn’t ask for, in addition to the sex, aren’t going to help.”
“This isn’t about sex,” Owen said. “It’s not about your shop, or our business. It’s a gift. There’s no lienholder. We don’t have any claim to anything you own.”
Kingston moved into view and stood next to Owen. “We want you to be successful and happy.”
“Oh, okay. Sure.” Sarcasm bled into my retort. “And I’m supposed to believe that? How do I know this isn’t a way to get back into my life?”
“It’s not. I’m telling the truth. Why do you have such a hard time believing we like you for you?” Owen’s typical calm demeanor was buried under a frown.
