Page 162 of Darling Obsession

Istand over a luxurious pet bed in Harlan’s sunroom, where the black cat reclines on a blanket like a little queen. Her wounded leg is in a cast, a little heart on it made out of red medical tape.

“I can’t believe that’s Darla,” I say.

Harlan crouches next to me, fussing over the pet-gate wall that he had his staff set up posthaste to keep the cat secure while she recuperates. She won’t be wandering freely until the cast is off.

“I mean, yes, her name is Darla,” he says distractedly. “But no, she was never my lover.”

“Gee, thanks for clarifying.”

He nudges her food bowl closer to her, then steps over the gate.

I shake my head. “Worse… I can’t believe they abandoned her like that.”

The couple who came to collect Darla, her owners, refused to pay the vet bill when they found out how much it was. They actually got irate about it and told the vet to keep her.

Jerks. They were driving a Jaguar.

Harlan paid and brought Darla home.

“Explain, Harlan. Please. She’s safe and comfy now, I promise.”

I have to actually take him by the arm and tug him over to the sofa in the adjoining family room. He comes, but he doesn’t sit down. The guilt runs deep.

I seriously think he blames himself for her falling off the roof.

“Climbing is just what cats do,” I assure him, as I already did so many times on the ride home. I’m not sure he fully heard me. “You won’t be able to stop her from climbing in the future.”

His eyebrows are all twisted together as he watches her lick her belly fur. “Maybe she’ll just be an indoor cat from now on. I have a large house.”

My god. I can literally see how loving he is.

He adores that cute little broken cat.

I’d be jealous, except it’s just so freaking beautiful.

I just wish he could see it.

But I’m distracted, too. I’m still processing that there really is no Darla. At least, no human Darla.

Which means that his ex-lover Darla, the woman I built up obsessively in my head, isn’t real. She never was.

I sit down on the sofa, watching him pace. “So… Geneviève Blaise. She’s not Darla, then?”

“She’s not my ex at all. She dated Jamie, not me.”

“Oh my god. You have no idea…”

He finally looks at me. “How mad you are that I lied to you?” he fills in.

“How relieved am I that you didn’t sleep with that woman,” I counter. “She’s beyond gorgeous! How can I compete with a freaking movie star?”

He stops pacing, and his eyes burn into me. “You don’t have to compete with anyone.”

Oh,wow. My insides turn to molten muck when he looks at me like that.

But if he thinks I’m letting him distract me with those bedroom eyes of his, fuck that.

“Were you ever planning to tell me that the cat is named Darla, though? If I hadn’t found out like this?”

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