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I’d let myself get lost in the work long enough that I forgot how conflicted I felt about the whole damn thing.
But I planned to have a serious talk with Julian when I saw him next.
Twenty-Two
I woke with a start,dreaming about a threesome between Wesley Snipes, Diana Ross, and the actor who played Wesley Wyndam-Price, thanks to work still percolating in the back of my mind. I stretched, rolled over, and glanced out the window. Blue-black sky greeted me, and judging by the sluggish, disconnected buzz in my brain, I’d say I slept the whole day and into the night.
My phone sat on the cold hunk of white marble serving as a bedside table, which I’d been too tired to notice when I’d crashed this morning, but now…well, I hated it. Everything in the room, from the white carpet and bed linens, the crisp white paint, and gauzy white drapes, screamed that whoever had chosen it had absolutely no personality and picked white because white was classy.
White was also clinical and cold and how could anyone live with all whiteeverything?
I mean, what if I got my period, or spilled my wine?
I picked up my phone and glanced at the seventeen texts from Jaxson, the gist of which were, he hated the bar almost as much as I hated this room.
You owe me so big, Eeds. People suck.
Except this one who looks like he could suck-start a lawnmower and tipped me fifty on a ten dollar tab.
I chucked and shot him a quick,Be safe, before getting ready for the day. Jaxson would collect on the debt in the most uncomfortable way possible.
Like introducing him at his drag debut. God, that was nerve-wracking. Public speaking? Not for me, not since that horrendous speech class that was supposedly an easy A on my transcript.
I shook off that sweat-inducing memory and checked my phone again.
At least it was still Friday. I had worked straight through from Tuesday night to early Friday morning without stopping. No wonder I had a freak-out and scared poor Sunny.
I’d have to be more careful. And I’d have to make sure to ration my blood intake again, just to be safe.
Speaking of blood…
That was the only redeeming thing about this room.
On the wall next to the door hung a huge shelving unit made of tall, narrow, cup-sized cubbies. And inside those cubbies were not just the cups Julian had given me blood in, but every Starbucks seasonal collection cup from the last three years.
It was a lot of fucking cups.
I kind of loved it.
I’d never bought Starbucks. Never made room in my budget for six-dollar coffees. But I’d coveted those pretty cups for I don’t know how long. I’d see people walking with them, or coming out of the cafe sipping on them. They were always in cupholders in people’s cars and there were at least three girls in my morning classes who came in holding them every day.
They were a little piece of consumerism that I’d never let myself partake in but always wanted to.
And now I had a literal wall full of them.
I’d have to remember to ask Julian how he’d gotten his hands on so many. Oh, who was I kidding? He was a king with depthless resources. He could have whatever he wanted gift wrapped and delivered to his house in under an hour.
The better question was why.
After showering and picking my outfit for the day—ripped jeans and a work halter—I grabbed the smallest cup I could find—a purple glittery one that wasn’t that small—and went downstairs.
On my way to the kitchen I passed by the formal dining room, where Julian sat at the head of an enormous, twelve-person dining table, in front of a steak dinner and a large glass of red wine.
That room, unlike the others on this floor, leaned into the tropey vampire aesthetic. The wood table had been stained black and polished to a gleaming finish. The bloodred seats of the carved chairs matched the rich matte walls.
Over the center of the table hung an iron chandelier with curling stems and florets adorning each arm.
It was totally over the top and yet, it was still way better than the blindingly white room I’d been remanded to.
