Page 46 of Theirs to Corrupt

“Coffee run?” Torin suggests to Mira.

“Please,” she responds.

The thought of something warm, rich, soothing appeals to me. “Me too,” I murmur, surprising myself by speaking up.

What’s another seven dollars on top of what I already owe Link and Pax?

In the rearview mirror, Torin catches Pax’s eyes. He nods his ascent.

Apparently grabbing coffee is a potential risk.

Mira orders a straight-forward beverage, lots of caffeine, no sugar. Maybe because she’s working?

My mocha-and-caramel concoction is amazing, but after a couple of sips, I stare at the lid, and my mind reels, replaying the horror of the last twenty-four hours. Twenty-four? Maybe closer to twenty.

We arrive back at the house. Mira carries in the garbage bag filled with my belongings, and I carry the paper bag filled with things I bought at the drug store.

Link walks into the kitchen and stops near the counter. Though he’s in dress slacks and a shirt, he’s taken off his tie and suit coat.

He’s more approachable, drop-dead gorgeous.

My heart rate soars.

Glass of wine in hand, he sweeps his gaze over me.

Maybe my exhausted mind is playing tricks on me, but I’m certain he lingers on that spot he kissed, and my skin seems to tingle all over again.

Nervously I slide my cup onto the counter and hang my purse from the back of one of the barstools.

A bottle of wine is open on the kitchen counter, two empty glasses next to it. After the day I’ve had, the sight of it is almost too tempting to resist.

“Anything else tonight?” Torin asks.

“Food,” Pax says. He looks at everyone. “Pizza?”

Despite my filling lunch and the coffee with enough calories to fuel me for days, the idea of melty cheese and crispy pepperoni makes my mouth water.

Since I ran away from Chicago, I haven’t been able to afford anything other than the paper-thin frozen variety from the grocery store.

Everyone nods enthusiastically, and Pax calls in an order and includes a pan of chocolate chip cookies as well.

A few minutes later, Mira and Torin head back out to pick up our dinner.

“Not allowing any deliveries onto the property,” Pax explains.

Another reminder of how mad my life has become.

“Wine?” Link asks.

“Thank you.” I tuck my leftover coffee into the refrigerator.

The red wine is rich and flavorful, and the effects seem to go straight to my head.

Pax and Link talk, and I perch on a barstool and listen. Already I have a favorite place to sit in the kitchen.

As Torin and Mira arrive back home, Pax opens a cabinet and removes several plates.

“Can I help?” I offer, needing to do something useful. The pampered princess role I’ve been thrust into is so unusual, and it doesn’t suit me.

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