Page 52 of Carnal Urges
“This is my my-captive-is-a-pain-in-my-fucking-arse face.”
“Ah, yes, now I recognize it. You could star in a hemorrhoid-cream commercial with that mug.”
We gaze at each other. I’m trying not to feel admiration at how she’s taking the news, but I should’ve known better. She’s not one to break down and cry, even when she could be dying.
“Is there anyone you want me to call?”
Without missing a beat, she says, “Oprah Winfrey. I’ve always wanted to meet her. I feel like we’d hit it off, she’d invite me to all the cool parties at her Montecito mansion, and that’s where I’d meet my future husband, the crown prince of Monaco. Or Morocco. I can’t remember which was the cute one.”
I fight a smile. “I’ll get right on that. Anyone else?”
She sighs, settles back against the pillows, and shakes her head. “No. My mom passed away years ago, and I only talk to my dad on holidays. His new wife doesn’t really like me. You probably already knew that, considering you’re omniscient and all, but if anything happens to me, please let Natalie know. I don’t want to worry her by telling her I’m here, but she’ll freak out if she doesn’t hear from me again soon. She’s probably already freaking out now. She’s very emotional, you know. She’s the sensitive one.”
She trails off, chewing her lip and frowning.
“She’s lucky to have you as a friend. You’re very loyal.”
Sloane looks like I just informed her I sold her to a circus. “I’m sorry, it must be my janky brain, but I thought I heard you say something nice to me.”
Now I can’t help my smile. “It was definitely your janky brain.”
“That’s what I thought.”
I stand and take off my jacket. I throw it over the back of the chair, then sit down again and pick up the celebrity gossip magazine from the small table beside the bed. I settle in the chair, get comfortable, and start to read.
“Um. What are you doing?”
I don’t look up from the magazine when I answer. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Sitting. Reading. Staying.”
I say drily, “Your powers of observation are astonishing.”
Silence follows, but I know it will be short. And I’m right.
“Declan?”
“Aye, lass?”
“Don’t you have important gangster things you should be out doing? Murdering your enemies and whatnot? Skulking around dark alleyways?”
“Aye, lass.” I turn the page.
“So…”
“If anyone’s going to kill you, it’s going to be me. I don’t trust that idiotic fifteen-year-old doctor.”
“Are you talking about thebrain surgeon?”
“Aye. Looks like he got his medical license from a Cracker Jack box.”
Sloane starts to laugh. The sound is soft and surprisingly sweet. Even more surprising is how much I like hearing it.
“Are you sure you’re only forty-two? Cracker Jacks are like from my dad’s era.”
I lower the magazine and look at her. “You remembered how old I said I was.”
“I remember everything you’ve said.”
