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“Ledgers?”
“Mmm.”
“Not.” He finished his knot and wondered what ledgers she was talking about, and, more importantly, why she was even looking. That along with her fucking Alexander and he was wholly perplexed by her of late. “Why did you not ask my opinion?”
“Why?” It was a strong answer. One he himself would have given to such imbecilic questions. About anything.
He chuckled to himself and looked at the device, imagining her scowling at him.
“Am I not relevant to thought at all?”
“You are constantly relevant to thought,” she said, blowing on something again. “Which is why I’m looking after these accounts which Thomas clearly hasn’t been anywhere near in years. I think you might be right about taking the clubs off him.” Something clattered, followed by a snarl of annoyance and liquid being poured. “What isn’t relevant to thought is your opinion on whether I do, or do not, fuck Alexander to help the man you love.” He smirked and picked up the phone. “Therefore making you happy in a roundabout kind of way.”
“I am livid with you,” he snapped, smiling.
“How exciting.” He snorted and walked towards the stairs.
“It’s mutinous of you. I could be disgusted at your behaviour.”
“You are not,” she said, softening her tone to that which she used only in her most loving moments. “And I’ll take your thanks later, from your knees, with my cunt covering your mouth.”
“Hmm.” He smiled again and wandered down the stairs, a joyful lilt to his movements. One could even say bouncing.
“Have you made him see sense yet? I’m bored out here on my own,” she said. He frowned a little at her tone and rounded the corners into the kitchen, unsure what he was going to do to bring sense to the forefront of Alexander's mind.
“He is tied up in his safe room. Drugged,” he eventually replied, placing the phone onto the counter so he could make more coffee.
“Interesting technique.”
“I thought so. Also, I had my fingers in his ass last night.”
“Drugged?” He pulled two cups from the cupboard, then put one back. The bastard would have no coffee until he had begged forgiveness.
“Unfortunately so. But I could not have you beating me with tales of when you fucked Alexander that time. It was the only way. My fingers are of adequate countenance.”
“With drugs, though. I didn’t need those.” Bitch. He threw the cup to the floor, smashing it to make himself feel better.
“A cock in a cunt, my love, is entirely opposed to fingers in the ass.”
“It’s not, he just doesn’t like you as much as me.”
This conversation was not going as planned. He walked away from the damn coffee, instinct driving him back to the very thing that may not like him as much as Lilah but would most definitely be respecting him more. “You’ve lost your touch, Pascal.”
“I have not.” He looked at the door to the safe room as he rounded the corner, which presently wasn’t very safe for either of them given that the drugs would soon be wearing off along with the inability to hold him securely. “I am simply introducing a new version of myself for him to play with. Did you send the oaf back?”
“The driver? No. He’s here in one of the rooms upstairs.”
“I may need him.”
“What for? Do you need me there, too?” Hmm. Did he? He looked at the handle again and pondered that thought. She was entirely useful when it came to Alexander. The man softened with her for reasons unknown, but softening was not required here. Fear was.
“Not. I am enthused. But you should send the oaf back.”
“I’ll be there in an hour.”
“You will not. You will leave me to deal with-“
The phone call ended. He was not surprised at all.
