Page 34 of Vicious Arrangement
“What the actual fuck?”
The thing growls and lights up the night with a series of ferocious barks.
Fuck me.
It’s that fucking giant floor cushion. And it barks and growls.
A light blooms on.
No. It’s a giant ass brown dog who wants to eat my liver for lunch.
“Angus, good dog,” Aria calls out. “Good guard dog, good baby.”
Good? Baby? I pick myself up as Angus the giant dog rushes to her and jumps up on her, his tail wagging furiously.
“What is that?”
“Angus. He must’ve thought you were an intruder,” she says, rubbing the hell hound’s ears and petting him. “Didn’t you? Yes, you did.”
“Your… dog?” My disdain shines. “Of course you have that as a dog. Makes perfect sense.”
The dog growls, and she glares. Shit, I figured her dog was something small, cute-ugly, girly.
A poodle, or teacup chihuahua, or a yorkie. Not a fucking horse.
I point at it. “There’s no way that thing’s coming to my duplex.” It’s white and cream. The dog is chocolate brown. It’ll leave fur everywhere. And paw prints. And eat things. Fuck.
Aria’s eyes narrow, a protective arm around the savage beast. “Then I’m not coming either.”
“Fine.” I grit my teeth. She’s stubborn. It annoys the hell out of me and turns me on. “But he sleeps outside in my outdoor space. Got it?”
Aria smiles. “Got it.”
Chapter Ten
ARIA
There’sno way in hell Angus is sleeping anywhere but inside. I put off moving in for a few days because I have back-to-back shifts. But though I’m dead on my feet on Sunday afternoon when I finish my shift, I start packing.
Gramps is picking a subletter, and they’ll get a subsidized deal. But that’s his choice, not mine. If I owned the building, I’d do the same, but if I were finding someone for him, I know I’d charge more than he would. Probably not much, but… I don’t want him ripping himself off. He has taxes, maintenance and everything else that goes into this building. This is one of the properties he owns outright that has nothing to do with Sanderson’s.
I’ve booked a moving van and arranged storage for my furniture if the subletter doesn’t want it, and there are some things I inherited from a mom and dad I never knew that I don’t want in someone else’s hands.
Don’t get me wrong, the things that make up my apartment, whether rescued from the street, thrift store discoveries, or regular purchases, are things I love, but I don’t think I’d shed a tear over them.
The art deco coffee table that was mom’s, yes. Dad’s bookshelf another yes.
But I can’t see someone like Noah making room for my things. He expects me to put Angus out on a balcony in the heat, the ice and snow.
My clothes are packed, toiletries, books, all the things I need, including everything of Angus’s, other than his bed. I’ll take that tomorrow on my day off.
I think about texting Noah to let him know I’ll be there at eight a.m. tomorrow, but I don’t even want to do that.
We had sex.
I shudder, close my eyes, and flop on the sofa, Angus coming up and resting his doggy head on my stomach as he sits next to me and whines.
“You did good, though if there’s a bone to pick, you should’ve interrupted before it happened.”
