Page 18 of Partnering with the Artist

So…why is the only thing I feel a vague sense of…emptiness?

Chapter 7

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Yeah, so, um, I’mnota reverse harem girlie…

Maelin

“Do you ever think about revenge, Maelin?” Zakery asks me, which is an odd way to interrupt my ramble.

Except, maybe, it isn’t, considering my ramble centered on how disgusting Harry is for wanting to include me—in a fursuit—in his harem of who knows how many women by this point.

Yeah.

Okay.

I’m seeing where bringing up revenge is an entirely fitting interjection.

Honestly, I’m proud of myself for not bringing up Harry’s post for an entire five days. It’s officially Friday. My last “work” day (if sitting around in someone’s room, chatting, and playing on my phone counts as “work”). Heck, I evenfell asleepyesterday. Woke up to the smell of food and Zakery holding a plate of carbonara beneath my nose.

In a single week, Morana has told me four separate times that working here hardly feels like work. Sure, she’s scrubbing and cleaning and helping make meals with either Kaleb or Viktor, usually, but she’s also wandering the lavish gardens, taking breaks in front of wide screens, and contemplating taking Kaleb up on using the Olympic-sized indoor swimming pool, complete with a lazy river, and several hot tubs.

This isn’t just lavish living.

We’re gettingpaidto enjoy the amenities while we hang out and have homemade lunches with a whole bunch of super-amazing, super-kind celebrities.

“Maelin?”

And…one of those celebrities just asked me a question, didn’t he? I close my eyes. “Sorry. Revenge, right? I got lost in my head.”

“You do that often.”

“Yeah, Mora says it’s why I’m always running into things. But, really, I’m pretty sure that’s just my depth perception… I did a test, once. Saw if I could navigate my house better with my eyes closed… I could.”

“You’ve only tripped on the step in here twice.”

“And up the stairs the other three days…” I pout.

“That….is fair.” He smiles, so kindly. Too kindly for his next words to be: “So…revenge. Ever think about it?”

I sigh. “No, Zakery. I don’t think about revenge.”

“Oh.” He spins in his chair, which he does, often, either because he’s thinking, or because he’s frustrated, or maybe just because he likes it. Zakery moves a lot. The constant restlessness is endearing now that I’m more comfortable around him. There’s a youthful innocence to him that doesn’t quite match the things he says. Things like: “Would you like to?”

“Would I…like to think about revenge?”

“Yes. Revenge against all those who have ever scorned you, wronged you, or belittled your grandness.”

Mygrandness, huh? “Um. I don’t think anyone other than Harry has really…offended me that badly?”

“Well, revenge against just Harry, then.”

Revenge against Harry.

What an idea.

It’s the kind of idea that makes it hard for me to breathe, so I fiddle with the tips of my hair, watching how they catch the pale light softly gleaming all around me through the sheer white fabric over the windows. “Please don’t think I’m stupid, but I stillkind of care about Harry… I don’t want anything bad to happen to him. He was horrible, and self-centered, and I don’t know what to make of our relationship or why I tolerated so much, but I still wanted to spend my life with him. It’s just…complicated. I don’t want to hurt him.”

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