Page 145 of Pretty Little Thing

“Why do you have a shotgun?”

“Because this is my house.” I sniff. “I have to defend it.”

“Good lord…” she whispers.

Trix returns with three wineglasses and my corkscrew. She sits down next to Melanie, who promptly nudges her leg and points at the wall.

Trix stands right back up. “Hey, Nora, honey… how about we put this someplace safer, okay?”

I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t gonna use it, guys. It’s not loaded.”

Trix picks up the gun and turns it over in her hands, expertly popping the stock open to confirm it’s not loaded. “Is this the one my dad gave you?” she asks.

I nod. “For my housewarming party. He didn’t like the idea of me living alone on Michigan Avenue.” I scoff. “He was right.”

She sets it on the mantel above the fireplace and sits down next to Melanie again.

“Nora,” Melanie yanks the cork out of one of the bottles. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable upstairs? Instead of all curled up on the chair?”

“No.” I sniff. “I can’t even look at the bed. It still smells like him…”

“Clive?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay. Okay.” She picks up a glass. “No talking. Do you wanna maybe come over here with us?”

I eye the couch. “No. He touched that, too. He touched everything except this chair so I’m going to sit in this chair because he never touched it.”

Trix looks from me to the mantel. “He didn’t touch you, did he?”

I sit up, kicking a few more tissues to the floor. “No,” I answer. They visibly sigh with relief. “No. He just tricked me into trusting him but I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Is that why you had your locks changed?” Melanie asks.

“No, I had my locks changed because he broke them busting through my damn door while he and I were away last night.”

“In New York?”

I blow my nose. “He got arrested while he was telling me he loved me.”

“Clive got arrested?”

“No. Hedid.”

Trix tilts her head. “Honey, you’re using a lot of pronouns here.”

I point at them. “I know what you guys are doing. You came here with the booze and the food and the quiet, motherly voices to get me to talk but I don’t wanna.”

“We just want to make sure you’re okay, Nor,” Melanie says. “That’s all.”

“Well, I’m fine,” I say, my nose stuffed up. “Don’t I look fine?”

“No,” Trix answers bluntly. “You don’t look fine. You look like something very bad happened to you and I wanna know what it was because Papa ‘Gento got more where that came from.” She points at the gun on the mantel.

I bite my lip, tasting tears on it. “He was my Dom and I trusted him,” I say. “He made me feel so good and then…” A sob rises from my chest but I force it back down. “Clive got the job at Black Book to steal my client list.”

Melanie’s eyes widen. “Did he?”

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