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Martha has specific orders to let me know when those things run out so one of us can take care of getting more.
It’s all because of Kingsley, I told myself. If it were him, he would’ve made sure she had her comfort food if she was feeling down.
In my head, I used that excuse again when I stood there in the middle of the fucking darkness and watched her knee-length skirt barely covering her ass because she was on anot-some-normalbike, clinging to the kid.
The safe,boringkid that she said she didn’t fucking want but was with him anyway.
Then he had his hands on her, touching her hair, pulling her to him, and hugging her. And I was about to go out there, using King as an excuse again, since I know for a fact that he hates it when she rides on a motorcycle. He was anal about removing anything dangerous from her life.
But fuck that, it wasn’t because of King.
It was because of me.
A grown man thought about beating up a kid. It was as bad as that and I had to take a moment to not act out on the thought.
And that’s when she came inside. Everything after that was a chain of events. As illogical as they were, they just came together naturally.
I’ve never liked anything as illogical as when she was moaning the house down because her tight pussy could barely take in my fingers. The thought of my dick inside that narrow opening has been plaguing me since I left her room as she watched me with those droopy chameleon eyes that were mostly green.
That’s how they look when she’s aroused. When she’s talking about fingers and being full and fucking urges.
Sexual. Plural.
And now I’m having urges myself, but they’re not sexual. They’re violent, like when I saw her climbing off the bastard’s bike.
Because she’s with him right now.
The reason she left early this morning, without having breakfast, is because she was eager to get to the firm and meet with him.
He somehow got an internship.Somehow, as in, I didn’t even know he was applying at W&S. Though I should’ve seen it coming and offed him from the beginning.
Christoph is his name. And no, I don’t make it my mission to know the name of every intern, but I needed to get this Christoph’s file.
And yes, I might’ve wanted to find a loophole to kick him out of the program.
I study the files HR sent me while I stare at the intern area from my position around the corner.
Gwyneth and the not-some-normal bike kid are sitting together, bumping shoulders and laughing with one another.
I glare at the associate attorney who’s supposed to scold them for slacking off. Or Knox—who took Christoph in, no surprise there—to tell his intern to get back to work.
Neither of those happen, obviously.
I stare back at Christoph’s file and my jaw tightens with each piece of information I read. Grades, interview questions, and attendance are ticked high.Extremely promisingis the note HR left about him.
Maybe I can send him to another branch and get rid of him, once and for all.
My conspiracies are put on a halt when my phone vibrates with a call, blocking my view of the email, andMrs. Weaverflashes on the screen.
That’s how Sebastian and I refer to Mom behind her back. She’s the last person I want to talk to right now. Or ever.
As soon as I hit Ignore, she sends a text.
Mrs. Weaver:Did you just ignore me, Nathaniel?
Obviously.
Mrs. Weaver:You can play hard to get all you want, but I heard something alarming and I need confirmation before I break all hell loose. Call me back immediately.
