Chapter 12 Marlowe
TWELVE
marlowe
We don’t risk leaving through the main entrance.
Instead, we disappear into the guts of the building—the garbage chute room, the boiler maze, the dark, dank concrete maze of tunnels no resident ever admits exists.
By the time we emerge on the far side of the block, Clive is already there waiting, the engine of the black car humming and ready to move.
“Are you even going to say anything about what just happened?” I hiss, my pulse beating a hole in my throat.
“Nope,” he says, so damn infuriatingly.
I follow Declan into the car and cross my arms as I settle back against the leather seat. I sneak a glance at him. His expression is smug, but underneath he’s all stone. Stubborn as hell. I’m screwed and powerless to say or do anything about it.
And while I don’t like him, dammit, I still want him. Over and over again.
He saved my life. He must care about me on some level.
I clench and unclench my fingers. The only positive thing about this bullshit union is that he might be the only one who can actually find my dad. That’s what I have to keep telling myself.
Leon was supposed to be that guy, but he never said he’d get him back, just that he’d help me find him. Maybe that should have made me think twice about his offer.
I still hang on to the hope that he might come up with some lead on my dad, but as time slips by, my hopes fizzle. Still, he may have tried to call or text since the wedding. Not that I’d know it since Declan has my damn phone.
I glare at hm. “Can I have my phone?”
“Why?”
“I don’t need to tell you why. It’s mine and I want it back.”
“You’re not calling that eejit.”
“I have other friends, thank you.” I mean, we’re not super close, but they’re fun to go out with. When I’m not rehearsing. Which is pretty much never.
“No.”
“Asshole.”
He only smiles.
“Maybe we can stay somewhere alone together, so—”
“I’m Irish,” he says. “Big families are a thing.”
My clit throbs and horror fills me at the same instant. I don’t even want kids. Ugh, I don’t even want to know what my body’s thinking and why it responded like that.
“I’m not Irish,” I say flatly.
He shrugs. “We can make it work at my family’s place. There’s plenty of space. You’ll have your own room if you want, and all the pets, of course. Plus, there’s always someone around who can keep an eye on you and them.”
I grit my teeth and curse my mother. “Fine.”
But I’m determined to find a way out of there. Freedom’s so close, I can taste it.
A few days pass and I wander around the massive brownstone, not knowing what to do with myself.
I have my own room next to his. They’re adjoining, so he can come in whenever he gets the urge.
There’s also a gym on our floor that reminds me of him, a smoky musk and leather scent that makes my knees wobble.
It’s what I imagine a place of ill repute might smell like…
or a man who frequents such a place. A man who smells of sex and money, charm and danger.
The gym has some machines, a Peloton, a treadmill, and a rower. There are a lot of mirrors, free weights, and kettlebells. There is also a big space where I could dance, stretch, practice yoga, and Pilates, and do my ballet warmups that work out every muscle.
But working up a sweat only takes up a fraction of my time. Lola watches me from her perch on the seat of the Peloton. With contempt.
I don’t blame him. He wants to run free, the way he did back when he was a young cat, before I dragged him home and started a fight between Mom and Daddy. I was allowed to keep the cat, probably because Mom thought I’d grow out of my rebellious, pain-in-the-ass phase.
But I never did. And Lola is awesome.
As we leave the gym, I spy two dogs watching us out of the corner of my eye.
A big German shepherd with kind, intelligent eyes, and a small, I don’t know what breed, with bright red and green wheels attached to her lower body.
They wait at the edge of the stairs, clearly wanting to go down, but the German shepherd eyes Lola suspiciously as he walks past, tail swishing.
Lola growls as a small white cat inches over to greet him. The cat yowls in response, and a black cat launches itself at Lola in its defense.
The big dog looks at me, picks up the dog with wheels in his jaws, and hurries down the stairs. I catch the little white cat as it gets ready to launch into the fray.
“Lola!” I cry when he crouches into his fighting stance, ready to attack the black cat. “No!”
I stamp my foot and get a slash of his claws into my dance pants. “Ow!”
Lola takes off and I bend down to check on the black cat. He draws back, hissing until I put down the white cat that he immediately shoves behind him.
It’s cute. He’s protective of the little one.
I hold out my hand, letting the cat sniff me.
He thinks about it, then butts my hand with his nose. I carefully pet his head and get a short burst of purrs as a reward.
Progress.
“Hi…” His glittering collar has a name, and I know instantly who gave it to him. A smile lifts my lips. “Hi, Clawzilla. I’m Marlowe. Prisoner and owner of Lola. Don’t mind him, he’s had a hard life.”
The small white cat peers around Clawzilla and scampers toward me. I read the name on the collar. “Hi, Bruiser.”
Together, we walk downstairs. We’re not alone, I can feel other people here in the brownstone, but this floor is quiet. At least until I reach the main living area. Then, a sharp scream followed by a baby crying pierces the air.
“Raffy!” A loud voice yells.
The small chubby powerhouse darts into the living room and slams right into me. He’s shocked as he raises his head.
“Show dus your tids!” he says.
His mom, whose name I forgot, rounds the corner, a crying baby nestled against one shoulder. “Raffy, no! We don’t say things like that.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. Pepper has always been a hit with kids. That is whenever I was allowed to have any over during school breaks.
Again, almost never.
“Sorry about Pepper.”
“His language is cleaner than most who live here, but we try not to teach Raff bad habits.”
“Had babits.” The kid laughs.
Her eyes meet mine and a kind smile lifts her glossy lips. “You dance beautifully.”
But the sentiment’s a little lost since she’s distracted by Raffy making eyes at a hissing Lola.
He doesn’t scare Raffy, though. The kid swoops in and puts the cat in a loving chokehold. Then, with a satisfied smile on his chubby face, he carries Lola into the hallway.
“Thanks. I’ll watch him if you like, um…”
“It’s Lucie,” she says, her shoulders sagging with relief. “And that would be wonderful.”
She takes the crying baby with her, and I wonder what the hell I’ve just done.
But I’ve sort of met everyone before, including the animals. And now that Lola’s been tamed, even a shaking Monarch pops up out of a corner, along with Fiona.
I run after Raffy. “How about we feed Pepper?”
“I love Pepper!” Raffy says as we start a strange procession to the kitchen downstairs. There’s a little ramp on the side of the steps that the wheeled dog takes. And Raffy giggles at Lola’s growl, not letting him go. “Go, Petal, go!”
The little dog runs faster.
Oh, Lord.
Where have I landed? I thought I was weird sharing space with a cranky street cat, a talking bird, and two dogs, but this might have me beat. In the pristine kitchen, a woman puts a pie in the refrigerator. She lifts an eyebrow at Raffy. “No pie until everyone else is home, young man.”
Then she turns to me. “My name is Maeve. I handle the housekeeping work three times a week.”
The woman bustles out with a full laundry basket. I stare after her. Three times? That’s all it takes to maintain this small village?
Mrs. Bell comes five times a week for Mom.
I ball my hands into tight fists. I don’t want to think about my mother right now.
I don’t want to think about Daddy, either.
But I’m starting to go a little stir crazy.
When I got my phone back from Declan, I saw a message from one of my few friends from my college days.
She asked me to hit a new club with her on Friday night.
I could really use a change of scenery.
I sigh and pull open the refrigerator door, a move that catches every animal’s attention. Searching through the shelves, I find a container labeled Pepper. When I pull off the lid, they all lose interest.
“Look, Raffy.” I bend down and show him and Lola the contents since he still hasn’t let Lola go. He sags against Raffy, like he’s given up the fight. If it was anyone besides Raffy, they’d be in shreds. But I guess Lola draws the line at children.
“Fruit.” He gives me an uncertain look, then asks, “Chocklit?”
“No chocolate. This is Pepper’s dinner.” I get a plate and make a selection of berries, kale, apple slices, and some mango.
Then I put the container back in the refrigerator and we walk to the room where Pepper stays.
I open the door and the pets all settle into various spots around the room.
Raffy follows me, dragging Lola with him.
I close the door once we are all inside.
Then I open Pepper’s cage door. Pepper swoops over our heads and lands on the desk overlooking the courtyard.
I ask Raffy if he wants to help me feed Pepper. Only then does he release Lola.
“Thanks, matey,” Pepper says as I walk over with the plate. Then he nods at the mango. “You didn’t see nothing!”
He eats quickly, so I grab a chunk of the mango and show Raffy how to hold it out to Pepper.
For all his saltiness, Pepper’s a softy. He takes it. Nibbles it. “More, more, more!”
Raffy feeds him some more.
“Fucking grand!” Pepper says.
“Fucking grand,” Raffy agrees.
A shiver ripples through me. I turn and he’s standing at the door, watching us, Clawzilla in his arms.
My gaze connects with Declan’s as he smiles slow, showing me his dimple and making my breath catch. “I didn’t notice you.”