Page 70 of Promise of Destruction
I nod. “Not a bad idea. The delinquent taxes aren’t the concern, of course. I’d be more worried about the foreclosure if I were you. Banks get into the business of mortgages for the interest. If you’re not paying them, they’re not going to hold your mortgage forever.”
That gives her pause. “What do you mean ‘foreclosure’? I’ve never missed a payment.”
“Oh?” I lift a brow and grab my phone, scrolling through my screenshots to show her the photo of her house with the red ‘foreclosure’ listed beneath it.
She takes the phone with shaky hands, her jaw set as she tries to find something to prove this isn’t the house we’re standing inside of right now.
“I don’t understand.”
“The bar is delinquent, too. Maybe it’s not a profitable business?”
Blinking, she tries to process what I’ve just told her. She opens her mouth, closes it, and tries again.
“I don’t understand.”
Her surprise seems genuine, like she really doesn’t realize that she’s drowning in debt. I’d thought that was why she was so eager to accept my job offer. The sum I offered her was intentional—it’s enough to wipe away all the debt that lingers from her life before me and then a meager salary she can save or use to buy herself a house where her husband wasn’t murdered.
“I’m sure in the beginning a lot of the companies must have been understanding of your situation, but they must have tried to collect eventually.”
“No,” she shakes her head, pushing my phone back at me. “I’ve never missed a payment.”
“Well,” I sigh. “Somebody has.”
forty-six
Soren
Idon’twantrandompeople in my house—Declan’s house—touching my stuff. I don’t want a kind doctor to act like he cares about me or a thick older woman to cook me breakfast or a teen with a nose ring to sort through my groceries and stock the shelves with fresh stuff. I don’t want the eggs, which honestly smell amazing, or the concern in Declan’s eyes. I don’t want to go anywhere with him, or call Tony and ask him what’s going on with my mortgage, or tell Khan that Declan is still here.
But I relent.
I drop into a barstool and spear the bacon, taking small bites until I’m sure that my stomach isn’t going to revolt. I eat everything on my plate because it keeps me from having to talk and then take my time sipping my coffee, waiting for whatever is coming.
Once she’d finished cooking, Lisa cleaned up her mess and helped Kacey stock the rest of the groceries. They carried the trash to the curb and left me alone with Declan sitting on the stool next to me, reading something on his phone.
It takes him a moment to realize I’m watching him, but he sets his phone down and I glimpse the frown on his lips.
“Our flight is in a few hours. Are you going to pack or shall I do it for you?” The gleam in his eye chases away whatever was bothering him just a moment before.
He doesn’t have to tell me that if I leave it to him to pack my bags, I’ll likely be naked for the duration of whatever trip we’re taking.
“I’ll go.” I say quickly, standing. “But you still haven’t told me where we’re going or why you need me to go.”
“We’re going on a work trip, and I need you to go because you work for me.” His voice drops with his next words. “Is that a problem?”
I think he wants me to say that it is, but I’m going to take every chance to deny him satisfaction. “Is this what you would call areasonable work-related situation?”
“Of course,” he nods. “But if you wish to consult your lawyer, I can wait. I assume you’ve got one on speed dial?”
I glare at him, flip my middle finger in the air between us as I walk away.
Packing when I don’t know where we’re going is even more irritating than packing for a trip I don’t want to go on, so I just grab a little of everything and shove it all into my suitcase. A work trip means I’ll need business attire and something to sleep in, but without knowing how many days to pack for, I’m taking a shot in the dark. Hopefully he’ll have to pay an oversized bag fee.
I briefly consider going out to my back yard and loading a second bag with a few bricks topped with some pajamas, but I don’t have the energy.
I texted both Marissa and Khan back to let them know I was alive, but I’ve been dodging the calls and telling them that I’ll be away for a few days. And I still have to call Tony and ask him to look into whatever is going on with my mortgages.
Vin was an adult when we met, but with zero credit to his name. I turned eighteen without two pennies to rub together, let alone a credit card to build a score. We made do and worked hard for what we wanted and it paid off, but when we started to search for a home, Tony offered to put the mortgage in his name so that we could avoid the ridiculous interest rate that would have taken everything we have in a given month.
