Chapter 26
T his time I do pick up those familiar notes of honey, the kind in a glass jar sitting on a table, with a walnut dipper sticking out of it as the sun streams through the window making it warm and pourable.
She’s in here, with me.
Play it cool.
Fighting a hard-on, I slowly roll to my back, then stretch my arms out to the sides. People stretch every morning. It’s not unusual.
The lower my arms go, the higher my cock rises, until—
Okay, where the fuck is she?
Only cool sheets beneath my arms, I open my eyes, instantly finding both sides of the bed empty. Trying to shake that disappointment away all over again, I stare at the ceiling, my hand rubbing my stomach. And cock. Just a little.
That was stupid. The fake-ass stretch. The anticipation. All of it. Ever Munreaux is not the type of girl to crawl into bed with a guy like me. She was only in here to terrorize me for some unknown reason.
She could still be in here.
Catapulting up to sitting, I scan the rest of my empty room. Over on the desk, right next to the mannequin head, are my sneakers, and since that’s not where I left them, I know Ever’s responsible. I go over and pick both up, turning them over. On the sides are doodles of birds, or maybe even bats, flying over the words PROPERTY OF EVER MUNREAUX.
My lips quirk. After I broke her shoes last night, she took it upon herself to replace them with a pair of mine. It’s undoubtedly the cheapest outcome, so if she wants them, she can have them. They won’t fit her but she can add them to the rest of her collection of shoes she doesn’t wear.
They’re much cleaner than they were, too, basically brand new even though I’ve had them for over three years now. I try to picture Ever going through the trouble of scrubbing my three-year-old kicks and grin ear to ear.
All at once, the smile withers up and dies. What did she use?
As soon as I enter my bathroom, I have my answer—my toothbrush. Its bristles now brown and mangled, it’s completely useless to me.
She also left me a sticky note on the mirror with I BELONG TO EVER MUNREAUX written on it—an affirmation she’d probably love me to repeat each day because that bitch wasn’t talking about the shoes. She was talking about their owner—me.
I shouldn’t have fallen asleep. This is what happens when she’s left to her own devices.
Speaking of devices…
I check my phone for when she left but find nothing. No notifications whatsoever. Just like when she showed up.
The sensor is faulty.
Goddamn it. It’s always something in this job.
I’m banging on Ever’s door, yelling her name, notifications lighting up my phone’s screen like fireworks on the Fourth of July. What the hell? It’s only faulty some of the time?
“What?” I hear from the other side and breathe a sigh of relief.
“Are you awake?” Stupid. Obviously, she is.
“Now I am. Why?”
“Nothing. Just, uh…seeing if we’re gonna try more stunts today.”
Shit. Fuck. Goddamn. That’s not how I wanted to spend my Sunday. I wasn’t going to stunt again unless she wanted to.
Why does my mouth suggest things without my brain in full agreement?
“Sure?”
“Um, okay. See you when you’re, uh, you know, ready. Or not. You don’t have to get ready…for me.” I fucking frown. This morning just keeps getting worse. I just keep getting worse.
I’m half a step away from the door when she calls, “Crue?”
I lean back the other way, my ear near the wood. “Yeah?”
“You’re welcome.”
With a shake of my head, I return to my room without acknowledging that, especially not with a thank-you. At least when I said it, I actually gave her something—an orgasm. All she did was destroy something. Two somethings—my sneakers and my toothbrush. I didn’t take a good enough look at the mannequin but it wouldn’t surprise me if she did something to that, too. It’s not hard to guess why the head was on the floor when I walked in last night. Like Ever’s energy, her jealousy is inexhaustible.
I’d love to know why she was in my room at all. Or why she didn’t seem to want to leave it. It wasn’t to fuck. Unfortunately.
If she wants to sit in here and draw on my belongings, she can do it every night for all I care. Most of the stuff in this room was paid for using Arthur’s money anyway. It’s better than trying to track her ass down if she sneaks out.
Track her down… That’s exactly what I’m gonna need to do now that the sensors in her room aren’t working properly. But how can I get a tracker on her without her knowing it? Most devices are bigger than the size of a quarter. I can’t hide something like that on Ever. She notices anything that could potentially ruin her aesthetic.
My gaze falls to my wrist, where her purple bracelet sits. She didn’t ask for it back last night and I forgot to offer it.
That’s not true. I didn’t want to give it back. I still have the other one, too. Knowing her, she’ll probably demand I return both soon. If only I could stick a tracker on them before I did.
What if I could? Most devices are too big, but that doesn’t mean all are. Animal trackers aren’t.
When we first got Zeus, my mom ordered a microchip for him without fully understanding how it worked— under his skin. She took one look at the syringe already loaded with the microchip and decided to go with a less invasive yet bulkier collar tracker instead. Even though I was younger at the time, I remember looking at the syringe, amazed how something as small as a grain of rice could not only track but also transmit that kind of information.
Hopping on my phone, I order a pack of twenty, springing for expedited shipping, then because those were the only sneakers I have, I look up the nearest shoe store and buy three pairs of the cheapest white ones they have, selecting the option to pick them up in-store. That should keep her busy until the trackers come in.
Now I just gotta make her think I hate what she did to my shoes. Ever’s talented. Without the property claim on them, I’d wear those shoes with her art added no problem. But the more shit I give her about defacing my possessions, the more she’ll want to keep doing it. If it weren’t for her conservation efforts, I’d swear Ever’s only objectives in life were to look amazing and piss me the fuck off.
“Haven’t you been paying attention?”
Bags of shoes in hand, I lead Ever up the manor’s front steps. I took her with me to pick them up, and while she’s been eyeing the bags with obvious suspicion ever since, this is the first thing she’s said to me.
“To what?” I mumble, acting like I’m barely paying her attention. I didn’t know what time she was gonna come out of her room this morning, so I had to stand outside it for two hours. When she finally did emerge, she was smiling like the cat that ate the canary, thinking she’s so cute for what she did to my shoes. I wasn’t wearing them but I acted mad anyway. I’ve been scowling ever since just to keep up the ruse.
If she were my girlfriend and did that, it actually would be cute. I don’t care. I’d wear that shit proudly.
But she’s not my girlfriend and she’s annoying.
“The Munreauxs aren’t cheap.”
“Okay,” I say with even less emotion.
“We don’t associate with cheap.”
I want to say she associated with Mallory Larson but don’t feel the need after making my feelings on the matter clear last night. Her association with him, and any man who isn’t me, is over.
For three years.
It’s weird to have a timeline on a… This isn’t a relationship exactly. It’s more situational. A situationship, I guess. Is that what the fuck this is? Not really. I’m her personal protection agent. She’s my protectee. We hate each other, but we’re fucking. We will be fucking. Eventually.
If we don’t kill each other first.
Which is very possible if she doesn’t spit out whatever the fuck she’s trying to say.
“What are you talking about, miss?”
She growls and I almost forget to keep my frown in place.
“Your shoes!”
We both stop in the foyer to face each other.
“They’re the cheap brands.”
I look down at the top box.
“So what?”
“You can’t wear them around me. Sorry. You have to return them. Immediately.”
I lift my gaze to Ever’s. Did she just apologize?
“I can’t. I don’t have any other pairs of sneakers to run in.”
“Yes, you do. I saw—” She cuts herself off and squares her shoulders before continuing in a much calmer tone, “I’m sure that’s not true.”
Oh, there it is. That shame for engaging with the help. She was about to admit out loud to being in my room, snooping through my things, something a Munreaux should not be doing.
“How do you know?” I question with an arched eyebrow.
We hold each other’s stare for a couple long minutes and I can see the moment defeat takes over her body, her shoulders drooping but her chin lifting.
“You don’t need four pairs of sneakers.”
“Three. My other pair is ruined, thanks to…”
Her sharp inhale has me giving in, too. God, I’m pitiful today. One fingerjob and I don’t know how to act.
“Our last run. The mud got all over them, even inside.” I doubt anyone’s listening but just in case.
“You don’t need three pairs—”
“I do.”
“You—”
“Do,” I finish for her, ending the argument once and for all.
“Be that as it may, the Munreauxs aren’t cheap, so you will be returning them—”
“Like I’ve said many times now, I’m not a Munreaux. And until my first paycheck hits my bank account, these are all I can afford,” I lie. I got that five-K bonus already, but that’s my business.
Ever appears stunned as she asks, “You haven’t been paid yet?”
I forget she has no idea how the real world works.
“It depends on the employer but typically paychecks are deposited every one or two weeks. Or if you’re salary, monthly.” Which for the first time in my life, I am. “Considering it’s Sunday, I technically haven’t even worked here a full week yet.” It’s crazy to think I only got hired on Monday. It feels like I’ve been at this a hell of a lot longer. At the end of three years, I’ll be like every president coming off their term, looking like I served ten years longer than I actually did.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“To who? You? So you can make fun of me some more about being poor?”
Ever’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Well, I need to go shopping.”
On to her this time, I just shake my head. “No.” It’s not worth watching her dad get upset with her again while she lies her way through an explanation for spending thousands of his dollars on me.
“You can’t tell me no.”
“No,” I repeat before turning and heading up to our wing.
“Those shoes are ugly!” she calls out, the desperation in her voice giving her away. She thinks if I don’t have any other sneakers, I’ll have to wear the ones she decorated. It’s not happening. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing those on my feet if they were the last shoes on earth. I’d go barefoot through the Lut Desert before letting her win.
“They’ll match my other pair.”
Another growl from her earns another smirk from me, this one I actually let free once I’m at the top of the stairs.
“I’ll be in the gym.”
“You better be,” I mutter as I pick up the pace. If I had a tracker on her already, I wouldn’t have to question that kind of statement. As it stands now, I can’t trust anything out of her mouth.
In my closet, I quickly arrange the new shoes in a neat row, each pair on top of their boxes like an enticing display of in-season fruit at a farmer’s market. Ever can act as high and mighty as she wants, but one look at these and she won’t be able to resist. She doesn’t want anyone to know she likes what she’s not supposed to…
But I know.