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I couldn’t explain any of this to my friends. In their eyes, I’d fucked up and acted like the asshole they knew me to be. I’d hurt the first woman who cared for me, therealme, destroyed her trust and abandoned her in the worst situation imaginable, when she couldn’t protect herself or walk away. I’d punished her because she made me feel something real, something deep and overwhelming.
It was hateful behavior. I didn’t deserve love.
I looked up as Devin slammed the door behind him. Milo was still there, his lips set in a thin line. “You’re out, Fort. Six months. Next offense is permanent.”
“I’m out of what?”
“Out of The Gallery. Don’t come back until you have your shit together. Six months is the minimum, but you might want to take a year.”
“A year? For one offense?” I needed The Gallery now. I needed to go there to numb the feelings Juliet had awakened in me, especially now that she was lost to me forever. “I’m a longstanding member of that place. One of the longest.”
“No fucking joke. That’s what makes it so sad. Get your head on straight, Fort.” He stood to leave, his face a disapproving mask. “We hurt women, but we don’t damage women. There’s a difference.” He went to the door, pausing just before he exited. “Good luck figuring things out.”
Chapter Twenty-Six: Juliet
Icried througha two-hour shower, questioning my life, stroking the sore marks on my thighs, berating myself, mourning the betrayal of my trust. Fort St. Clair was so good at turning on the charm, so good at dominance and seduction, but until tonight, I hadn’t realized how cruel he could be.
Not just cruel. Dangerous.
Well, I was done with his shit. I blocked him on my phone—for good this time. I took my Gallery uniform out of the bathroom trash where I’d stuffed it earlier, cut off the metal pieces, and fed the rest through my shredder. The machine’s rumble was satisfyingly harsh as it consumed the lace and fabric. I shredded the stockings next, determined to stick to my comfy over-the-knee socks from now on. I was left with the collar.Property of The Gallery.
Nope. From now on, I was the Property of No One. I cut up the collar and kept the lock to remind myself to keep my heart locked away from all men until, eh, maybe ten years from now. Maybe by then I’d be mature enough to choose the right kind of partner. I put the lock in the bottom of my jewelry box, then changed my mind and threaded it onto a thin black cord and hung it around my neck. I’d wear it every day under my clothes, a constant reminder of the consequences of my trusting, emotional stupidity.
By then it was almost five in the morning. I collapsed on my bed, then jumped to my feet as a knock sounded on my door. Holy shit. I couldn’t believe Fort would dare show his face. I clutched the lock in my fist, glad now that I’d decided to wear it. It would be my shield, my badge of courage to repel him.
I opened the door already worked into a fury, ready to unleash hell on the head of my tormentor. Goodluck blinked back at me, holding a large, fuzzy calico cat in his hands. “Are you busy?” he asked.
“No, but…” He moved past me, into my apartment. “I’m a little allergic to cats, boss.”
“Good, just a little? Maybe you can take some medicine or something. I think me and Mr. Snail Shell have to live with you for a while.”
Maybe it was my rough night, or lack of sleep, but I couldn’t figure out what the hell he was talking about. Mr. Snail Shell leaped out of his arms and curled up on my sofa.
“Goodluck, I don’t really have room in my apartment for you and a cat.”
“I know, I know, I know.” He buried his face in his hands. “I know I’ve been so mean to you, Starcomet. I was angry. I love you and I want you to be happy, so I want us to stay friends, even if you have your weirdo thing with that psycho guy…” He waved a hand, dismissing all that. “You’ll always be my Starcomet. Also, there was a small fire.”
“What?”
“In my apartment. I put it out, but at the moment my place isn’t really habitable, especially for Mr. Snail Shell. You know, I was so into flames and candles, and the fire alarms kept going off, so I disabled them, but then last night I fell asleep in the golden glow of one of those flames and…”
“And what?” I gasped.
He turned around. The back of his long hair was much shorter now, and singed black at the edges.
I stared a moment, put my hands over my eyes, then took them off again. “Goodluck, is the fire out now?”
“Yes.”
“Right now, this moment, there’s definitely no fire or any candles burning in your apartment?”
“The fire’s out, but I think some of the furniture and carpet will have to be replaced. The smoke damage…” He spread his arms with a smile. “It’s good that I don’t develop prints in there anymore. You’re right, it’s best to have a studio. If those flammable chemicals had been in the apartment, Mr. Snail Shell and I would be stardust now, wafting toward the heavens.”
“Jesus Christ.” My horror knew no bounds. Goodluck and his cat would have been ashes, not stardust. “You can’t burn any more candles in your apartment,” I said. “Not unless you enable the fire alarms and install sprinklers. You could have died!”
And that would have killed me. As much as Goodluck drove me crazy, I loved him like my own child.
“Don’t be angry with me,” he said, his face crumpling with emotion. “It was scary. I had to figure out how to use the fire extinguisher from the kitchen.” He came toward me, and I hugged him, stroking his hair, singed ends and all. “It was so scary, Starcomet, and I’ve missed you. I don’t want you to leave me, or stop working for me. And, plus, I have to live with you for a while.”
