Page 13 of Soul Food

“How far away are you?” she asked.

“About two hours?” I offered.

“Good. I’ll be waiting for you at the mansion.”

“Did you do what I asked?” I muttered.

“I did, but who asks about getting a will notarized at twenty-eight?”

One that’s about to die.

“You never know.” I sighed. “This bus could crash and burn, killing me before I even make it home to see your pretty face one last time.”

“I hate when you talk like this,” she groaned. “But thanks for calling me pretty. Is that your way of asking me to cook you something? We need to date, Ruth, or at least date each other. I’m not against dating a sexy millionaire rapper.”

I grinned. “Hey, I wasn’t asking, but if you want to, by all means. Wait, I thought we already were dating? You take care of me and all my money already. The only thing I haven’t done is tapped that tiny white ass.”

She laughed boisterously in my ear. “No need calling it tiny. What I got, I make it count.”

“I know. It’s nice. That new bodyguard Max looks at it every chance he can.”

“Does he really?” she asked. “How is he doing by the way?”

“He brought up Liz last night good-naturedly, and Rupert smacked him across the head.”

“Oh, God.” I pictured her shaking her head as she said that. “Rupert’s got your back though.”

I smirked. “Max is friendly and easygoing. I don’t think he can help what comes out of his mouth.”

“I’ve been there,” she admitted.

“Have you checked in on my ma?” Growing up, my mother would ask me not to call her mom in public. Said it made her sound old so since then, I made a job of calling her Ma instead, which she hated even more. It stuck over the years, and I couldn’t stop calling her that.

“Yeah, she threw her tray at me when I saw her yesterday. We can see her after you meet Amit for the first time tomorrow unless you want to relax a few days before going?”

“Nah, tomorrow’s good.”

“Can’t wait to see your face,” she said excitedly.

“You just saw me two days ago,” I pointed out.

“Two days too long.”

This was why I loved her.

Chapter Four

AMIT

Lars stumbled into my living room. Since I was pouring a shot of whiskey in the kitchen, I didn’t see the foot-tall creature, but I heard his clumsy entrance.

“Sire,” he called out as I leaned against the counter and listened to his uneven steps approaching.

“Why are you just now getting here?” My tone was neither disapproving nor mean, yet it was a trick question. I knew where the little gremlin had been all night. He went where I wanted him to, but he didn’t necessarily do things I liked. He often repeated the same mistakes over and over, especially when it came to the thorn in my side.

I’d never worked so damn hard for a delicious meal in all my two hundred and seven years of life.

“I fell asleep, Sire.” I could hear the fear in his voice.Guilty, guilty, guilty.

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