Chapter 18 #3
She shook her head. “No. It’s just an ‘annoying cousins’ thing. He’s being difficult because he can.” A look of pure determination settled over her face. “Don’t worry. I’ll get it.”
I shrugged and slipped on my sunglasses. “Eh, it’s fine. Just let me know where your cousin’s next event is and whether that cocktail’s on the menu.”
Naija shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, but before she could answer, a voice cut through the air from our left.
“I lost my job because of you!” Cassandra shouted.
We didn’t break stride.
“Get another one,” I replied without so much as glancing in her direction.
Apparently, that wasn’t the answer she was hoping for.
Cassandra lunged into our path, forcing us to stop. “How dare you force him to fire me?” she hissed, her face twisted with rage. “I always knew you were controlling him! I had a hunch, and now I have proof. You manipulative, controlling bitch!”
Naija shifted subtly beside me, her body coiling into a protective stance.
I just sighed.
“What are you screaming at me for?” I asked, meeting Cassandra’s wild eyes with sheer exhaustion. “Are you here for a job? Is that it? I don’t have any openings right now. And even if I did, I wouldn’t hire you. So, are we done?”
Her expression curdled, fury souring her features into something truly ugly. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you? You’re not. What you are is—”
“I am funny.”
“—is irritating. You’re fucking irritating and annoying!”
A genuine, cavernous yawn escaped me before I could stop it.
Naija glanced over, her brow furrowing with concern. “Are you not sleeping well?”
I shook my head, rubbing my temple.
“I need to replace my heater. My bed is like a block of ice no matter what I do.”
“One of my cousins can get you a good deal on a—”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Cassandra shrieked, her voice cracking.
I slowly turned my head back toward her. “We’re discussing heaters. Do you have a hearing problem now?”
Her jaw clenched so tightly I could hear her teeth grind.
“I hate you so fucking much.”
I tilted my head, studying her with genuine curiosity. “What is this really about, Cassandra? Be honest. You can’t actually be standing here, screaming on a sidewalk, over Cassian.”
I paused.
“I mean… him? What even is his personality?”
I’d spent a whole week in the same house and still couldn’t pin it down.
A smug, superior smile spread across her face.
“You’d never understand what we have. It’s so far above you, you couldn’t even comprehend it.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “My dad even named me Cassandra to match his name. To show the world how meant to be we are.”
I blinked. “Then he fucked up, because those two names together sound like siblings.”
Her eyes widened in horror.
Then her expression twisted with pure rage, and she launched herself at me. “You fucking—”
I didn’t move.
Naija did.
In one fluid motion, she caught Cassandra’s wrist mid-swing and twisted it sharply. Cassandra cried out, a sharp gasp of pain escaping her.
“Boss doesn’t keep me around just for my filing skills,” Naija said calmly.
She gave Cassandra’s wrist one final warning twist before releasing her. Cassandra stumbled backward, clutching it to her chest.
Naija and I turned toward the car.
Then Cassandra laughed behind us.
“How does it feel to be unwanted, Alessia?”
My feet stopped.
Her laughter continued, brittle and sharp. “I had to see it for myself. The great Alessia Quinn. You had everything—his name, his ring, his home—and you still couldn’t make him stay.”
I said nothing.
“All that planning. All that effort.” Her voice tumbled out faster with every word. “Throwing a party he’d rather miss. Giving him all the attention he’d rather avoid. Even the convenient accident…”
My stomach tightened.
“And he still discarded you. The moment he could walk away, he did. He signed the papers without a second glance.” She paused, her lips curling into a sneer. “He didn’t want you, Alessia. He never did.”
Naija tensed and started to turn, but I moved first.
I walked straight toward Cassandra until I was standing directly in front of her, close enough to see the triumph glittering in her eyes.
“Did you ever bother to research me?”
Surprise flickered across her face, quickly followed by confusion.
“Or do you only know me as ‘Cassian’s wife,’ and was that enough for you?”
She opened her mouth to retort, but I didn’t give her the chance.
“Do you know why I let you be, Cassandra?” My voice dropped dangerously low. “Because you’re insignificant. You’re a footnote. If you aren’t standing directly in my path, I forget you exist.”
Her face flushed with fresh anger. I took one deliberate step forward.
She instinctively took one back.
“You’re a mosquito,” I said, almost clinically. “A persistent, irritating buzz. And do you know what I do when a mosquito starts annoying me?”
A small, cold smile touched my lips.
“I don’t open a window and hope it goes away. I find the source.”
I held her gaze.
“And I end the nuisance. Permanently.”
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, every trace of smugness gone.
“If you show your face in front of me again,” I said, my voice calm and final, “I’ll be forced to get the bug spray and handle you myself.”
I gave her shoulder a light, almost friendly pat.
“So do us both a favor and stay away, okay?”
I turned before Cassandra could answer and headed for the car.
“Naija?” I called as she reached for the driver’s-side door.
“Yeah?” she replied, one hand resting on the door.
“I don’t keep you around for your fighting skills.”
Her brow furrowed.
“I keep you around for your looks.” I slid into the passenger seat and closed the door.
How hard could making a cocktail be?
That was famously my last thought before the chaos began.
Apparently, making a decent cocktail was an exact science of humiliation. I was failing spectacularly. My kitchen counter looked like the scene of a fruity, alcoholic crime. I’d tasted so many failed concoctions that my respect for bartenders had skyrocketed into reverence.
I was hunched over my final, desperate attempt when a sudden sound halted my concentration.
My head snapped up. All thoughts of citrus and syrup vanished. My eyes narrowed as I scanned the shadow beneath the door. In one fluid motion, I slipped my hand into the concealed slot beside the fridge and closed my fingers around the cool, familiar grip of my aluminum bat.
I moved toward the foyer, my socks silent against the floor.
Another sound.
Clearer this time.
The unmistakable, grating scritch of a key being forced into a lock that no longer matched it. Then came a jiggle, followed by a frustrated rattle.
It was past midnight, and someone was trying to break into my apartment.
A girl can’t even sit at home and drink terrible cocktails in peace anymore.
I crept forward, bat still in hand, and peered through the peephole. All the tension drained from my body in an instant. My grip on the bat loosened, and I let out a long, weary sigh.
I yanked the door open, the annoyance on my face unmistakable.
My mother stood there, two oversized suitcases at her feet, fiddling with a key that clearly didn’t work in my new lock. She looked up, mild surprise crossing her face before it slowly turned into a smile.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”