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“This sounds serious.”
“No.”
“My womansounds pretty possessive.”
“Because I am possessive. I’m possessive toward all things that belong to me. My money. My cars. My homes. She’s just another item on the list.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Little over a month.”
“Then this relationship is moving fast.”
Since nothing was happening with the prime minister, I looked at her. “We started at a high speed—and it’s remained that way ever since.”
“Bartholomew, you’re going to have to change your perspective on kids if you want this to go anywhere.”
“I don’t want it to go anywhere. Neither does she.”
“So…it’s just a fling?”
Not how I would describe it. “I guess you can say that.”
“Do you do those a lot?”
“Not really. Laura is one of the few.”
“Laura…pretty name.”
The conversation finally died, and we sat in silence. The men with the prime minister finally moved on. My opportunity would arrive shortly.
“I just don’t understand how you can call her your woman but say you don’t want anything more.” Of course, the conversation wasn’t over for Camille. She had to poke and prod.
“I want all the benefits of an intense relationship without all the bullshit. That’s how.”
“You aren’t afraid you’re going to get hurt?”
“No.” Not in the slightest. Couldn’t remember the last time anything hurt me.
“Well, aren’t you worried about her getting hurt?”
“No. Like I said, she’s a grown-ass woman. She can take care of herself.”
Camille stared, her eyes shifting back and forth between mine.
“Are we done with this conversation?”
She gave a nod. “Yeah.”
* * *
When I entered my home, my butler immediately looked at my hands.
They were covered in blood.
But like the good servant he was, he didn’t say a word.
I headed straight to the bathroom and scrubbed all the blood from my hands and underneath my fingernails. The white basin turned pink with the stains. I had to keep scrubbing, keep applying soap, until my hands were finally what they used to be. I wiped them clean then looked at my knuckles.
