Page 89 of Ruthless Creatures
“Of course.”
“Don’t make it sound so reasonable!”
“Why not? It is.”
“No, it’s absolutely not.”
“You’re mine now. It’s my duty and pleasure to take care of you.”
Who talks like that? What’s happening?“Give me a sec. My head is spinning.”
“I’m not saying youshouldquit your job. I’m just saying you could. Money will no longer be a concern for you.”
I look around the kitchen, as if for help from some other, more reasonable person. “You’ll be sending me an allowance now, is that what I’m hearing?”
“Yes.”
“Great. I’ll take it in gold bars, please. I’ve always wanted to stack them into a giant pyramid in the living room to see if I can communicate with aliens.”
Ignoring my sarcasm, he says, “Your house is already paid off—which is good, because that salary of yours is pathetic—but I’ve set up a trust account for you that you can draw from for any large expenses. A new car. New wardrobe. New jet. Whatever.”
Jet?
When I’m quiet too long, trying to pick my jaw back up off the floor, he says, “The trust is solely in your name, if that’s what you’re worried about. I can’t revoke it. That money is yours to do with as you wish.”
When he hears the small, strangled noise I make, he chuckles. “If seven zeroes isn’t enough, I’ll wire in more.”
Trying to work out how much money has seven zeroes, my brain turns to scrambled eggs. I say breathlessly, “Wait.Wait—”
“Mr. Santiago from MoraBanc in Andorra will be contacting you with the details. You can trust him. He’s a good man. We’ve been doing business together for years. In fact, we should plan a trip there. It’s a beautiful place, right between France and Spain in the Pyrenees Mountains. Amazing ski resorts.” His voice turns tender. “I know how much you love to ski.”
Another detail about myself that I never told him.
He’s been a very busy boy.
I decide it’s safer for me to be facedown on the table. The longer this conversation continues, the more I’m liable to topple sideways to the floor and crack open my head.
“Baby?”
“Hmm?”
“You okay?”
“Just a small brain hemorrhage. Nothing to worry about.”
“You’re so damn cute.”
“Glad I amuse you.”
“I’ll try to be back for Christmas, but I can’t guarantee it. In the meantime, relax.” His voice turns hot. “And keep out of that toy drawer. I want you wound tight as a spring the next time I see you. I want you to come on my cock the second I shove it inside you.”
The line goes dead.
I stay in the same position for a long time, thinking, until finally I rouse and take Mojo outside for a pee. Then I get dressed and go to work.
Life goes on, even when it’s bizarre and confusing.
Even when you’re the new obsession of a rich, sexy, dangerous criminal.
