Chapter Theodore
Theodore
“What is this?” Scarlet covers her mouth with a napkin and coughs a few times.
“Tofu. You said you didn’t eat meat.” I cut into my medium rare steak.
“What did you do to it?” She gulps down her water then takes a sip of Merlot.
“Fried it in a pan with some of your sea salt.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“That’s it. You’re feeding me salted, fried tofu?”
I tap my fork on the bowl of steamed broccoli.
She shakes her head. “You might want to look into a steamer. This broccoli is crunchy.”
“It’s perfect. Had I cooked it any longer it would have been mush.”
“I like mushy veg.” She shrugs. “Maybe it’s a British thing.”
I grab the bottle of wine in one hand and our glasses in my other hand. Then I stand. “But the wine suits Her Royal Highness?”
She rolls her eyes and pushes away from the table. “The wine is perfect, just like the company.”
Don’t say that, Scarlet. Don’t ever say that.
I can’t help but relinquish a small grin. “The beach is calling.”
As she steps off the boardwalk into the sand, she stumbles a bit and laughs. “Mr. Reed, I do believe you’ve gotten me a little tipsy.”
She’s taken two sips of wine. There’s no way she’s tipsy. I set our glasses on the top of the railing and refill mine. Then I top off hers. “Here.”
She narrows her eyes as she takes the glass. “Your response to me being tipsy is another glass of wine?”
Tapping my glass against hers, I grin. “Just seeing if alcohol makes you itchy.”
Her wild curls whip in the breeze when she turns. Then she flips off her sandals and trudges toward the water, ignoring my comment. “Tell me a lie, Theo.”
The wind presses her dress to her body, revealing small curves that weren’t there a few weeks ago.
She’s by far the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
My life is nothing more than bad timing separated by unimaginable moments of tragedy.
I’d reconciled my pain with the promise of revenge … until her.
She looks over her shoulder and smiles. “Did you hear me?”
I nod slowly, drawing in a breath to replenish the one she steals every time I look at her. “I grew up in Lexington, Kentucky. My father trained horses. My mother worked at the university.”
“I already love this story. So you know how to ride a horse?”
“I was a jockey.”
Laughter fills the night air as she throws back her head, some of her wine sloshes out of the glass. “Aw … poor horse.”
“Yes. Poor horse. They are incredible creatures. Some are treated like royalty, others … more like slaves.”
She drops the glass in the sand, letting the earth drink the rest of it. “I’ve never ridden a horse.” Her foot rips through the water, splashing it on my legs. “Well…” pinching her lower lip, she tugs on it, meeting my gaze “…except for you.”
My dick hardens.
“But I do like to race, and I’m fast. Very fast.”
“More lies.”
She shakes her head. “Truth. Want to see? Let’s race.”
I drop the empty wine bottle and my glass next to hers in the sand. “I hope you’re right because if I catch you, it’s going to be very bad.” I don’t say that with an ounce of humor.
Her smile fades, eyes wide and glued to mine. She nods as if she understands but there’s no way she can.
“You’ll never catch me,” she whispers. “It will feel like you’re chasing a ghost.”
She doesn’t say go. In the next breath, she’s sprinting down the beach. I chase her. After a while it does feel like I’m chasing a ghost. Resigned to the fact that I will never catch her, I slow down, but then she trips, clawing the sand to regain her footing. It’s too late. I’ve caught her.
Grabbing her waist, I lift her to her feet. She’s breathless and covered in wet sand.
“Theo …” The second she whispers my name the wind carries it away. I wish it would carry her away before we destroy each other.
I shake my head, grabbing her dress and peeling it over her head. Her body shivers, arms wrapped around her bared breasts as I simply stare at her. Why did she trip?
I shrug off my shirt. Her eyes drop to my chest.
“I told you, if I caught you…” I slide off my shorts “…it would be very bad.”
She sucks in a shaky breath as I pick her up. Her eyes never leave mine when I ease the crotch of her panties to the side and lower her onto me. Her breath releases in small pants as I completely fill her, walking us into the water.
Her lips part, eyes heavy. “It’s…” she blinks slowly as I move inside of her “…j-just a … lie.”
Dipping down, I ghost my lips over hers, so fucking hungry for her. I feel like my entire being is ripping apart at the seams. “Is it?” I whisper a second before our mouths collide.
*
Scarlet
This feeling makes it impossible to open my eyes. I’d almost forgotten how it felt to wake next to a warm body pressed to my back, strong arms wrapped around me. I think I’ll leave my eyes closed and keep stealing more of these moments—more breaths.
“You have absolutely no gag reflex.”
My body shakes with laughter, turning in his arms. I press my lips to his chest, keeping my eyes closed. Our legs scissor together like we’re both desperate to stay as close as possible. It’s not a hard feat on this sofa bed. If we don’t stay hugged to each other, one of us will be on the floor.
“Rude. That’s just rude.” My lips curl into a huge smile against the smattering of light hair on his chest.
“It’s not rude. It’s a compliment. A huge compliment.”
“A ‘huge’ compliment? Really? Now I get the feeling you’re complimenting yourself, not me. Besides, sex stays in the moment. You don’t talk about it when it’s over.”
“I agree.”
I tip my head up to nuzzle into his neck, feeling content that he’s dropped that topic.
“But, I’m serious. You have no gag reflex.”
“Oh my god!” I shove his chest and wriggle out of his hold, stealing the white sheet and wrapping it around me as I walk into the kitchen to get a bottle of water.
“The Argentine Lake duck has the largest penis of any bird—which I suppose isn’t saying much because only three percent of birds in the world have penises.
” I open cupboard after cupboard looking for something to eat.
I’m starving. “Anyway, when erect, it’s as long as its total body length.
” I settle for an apple then lean against the threshold to the living room, taking a big bite.
“Now, that’s bragging rights,” I mumble over a mouthful of juicy, green apple.
Theo sits up, resting back on his elbows, my pillow covering his junk. “Is that my apple?”
I stop chewing, images of him digging out a bite of apple from my mouth cross my mind. “Maybe.” I release the sheet, letting it fall to the ground. “Is that a problem, Mr. Reed?”
Theo’s gaze stretches the length of my naked body. “Not today.”
“It’s almost six. I’m going for a walk before breakfast with Yimin. Go swim with the sharks.” I give him a flirty wink before sashaying my naked arse to the bathroom.
By the time I come back out, he’s already gone.
I frown at my spider plant on the floor.
One of its stems with a baby plantlet has been stepped on and broken.
It really needs to get hung from the ceiling, so I look for a hook.
Theo has a small toolbox by the stairs, but I don’t find a hook.
I know he took a lot of stuff upstairs, so I check up there.
My eyes affix to the tool belt on the floor in his room. Maybe he has more tools in there.
I tiptoe toward it, making sure I don’t step on any of the tiles he has strategically placed in their spot.
No luck. It’s just a tool belt and several boxes of tile.
I slowly make my way to the en suite bathroom.
My curiosity is getting the best of me right now.
He has everything moved out for the renovation, so I don’t know what I expect to find.
There’s a sink, nothing on the worktop, a toilet with the lid up, and a bath-shower combination.
I’m a little surprised the shower curtain is still up.
With a quick tug like I’m doing a big reveal, I slide the shower curtain to the side. Inside the bath is a black footlocker trunk with a heavy padlock on the front.
Close the curtain and walk away, Scarlet. My brain knows the right thing to do.
Not my room.
Not my trunk.
Not my business.
Maybe it’s where he plans to keep my body when he cuts me up into six manageable pieces: legs, arms, torso, head.
“You’re losing it,” I say, rolling my eyes as I slide the curtain closed. “Don’t cross that line.” Vocalizing my voice of reason seems to help. I’ve made it back downstairs. It’s time for my walk so I’m not late to Yimin’s.
I mist a few of my plants by the window and think about the trunk.
I shove my feet into my trainers and think about the trunk.
I grab a bottled water and think about the trunk.
“Fuck it.”
My name is Scarlet Stone and I would stick my hand in a biscuit barrel of poisonous snakes on the off chance that there might be one biscuit left.
Before reason has a chance to slay my deadly curiosity, I’m already ten seconds away from having the padlock removed. Daniel used to call me a thief. I preferred philanthropist. Perspective is a funny thing.
“Theo, if you don’t want me to get into here, then you really should invest in something more secure than a discount shop padlock.
” I can talk to myself all I want, make excuses for my really bad behavior—even if justifying breaking the rules is ingrained in my DNA—but it still doesn’t make this right.
If I’m completely honest, short a lock triggering a bomb, there is nothing he could use to keep me out of this trunk.
The good news? As I ease open the lid, I don’t find a cut-up body. However, as I sift through the content, I wonder if the former would be less disturbing.
“Oh my god, Theo …” I whisper.
Guns.
Knives.
Photos.
Newspaper articles.
“What. Are. You. Doing?”
University Of Kentucky’s Professor Kathryn Reed Found Dead in Her Home
I skim over the words. Murder. Survived by a son, Theodore Reed.
Another article.