Page 31 of He Should Be Mine
I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose, teeth clenched. The smell hits a second later, acidic and floral. It’s disgusting, but he didn’t throw up in my car and I’m touched by that.
Molly moans. “Sorry. Shit. That bag cost like eight hundred quid.”
“Of course it did.”
He’s a walking disaster. A hazard in high heels. He’s reckless and chaotic and doesn’t listen to a damn thing I say.
He’s going to get me killed.
I should be furious. I am furious.
But there is also something else coursing through me. My veins are pulsing with it. A tingling like electricity that reaches all the way to my damned soul. My head feels clearer. The world is brighter. I can breathe easier than I have in years.
I should be enraged, possibly scared.
So why do I feel more alive than I ever have?
Chapter nine
Dario
Safely back in the underground parking lot, I open the back door of my car. Molly spills out and I only just catch him in time.
Several items clatter onto the concrete. Mascara, coins, a bottle opener, and a driving licence. They are all mercifully clean. His fancy bag must have different compartments and he was able to be sick in an empty one.
“Whoopsie!” Molly giggles.
I hold him with one hand while I pick up his scattered belongings and put them in my pocket. There is no way I’m going near that bag.
I pick up the driving licence. Molly’s picture frowns up at me. He’s younger. His hair is so short it is severe. His eyes are sad. It’s a horrible picture.
Matthew Davidson.
And underneath it, his date of birth.
I blink at the black letters of the name before shoving the driving licence into my pocket. I always assumed Molly wasn’t the name his mother gave him. But seeing it in print is giving me a strange feeling. Like I’m seeing a personal secret he never meant to share.
I put his arm over my shoulder and guide him towards the elevator. He sways and leans heavily on me, but he’s going to be able to make it.
“Did the distraction work?” Molly slurs.
“What?”
“The distraction.”
“What distraction?”
Molly pokes me in the chest. His touch buzzes like electricity and I feel colder when it’s gone. Even though he is draped all over me.
“That guy was talking to you, he looked like one of you lot, so I thought a distraction would be good.”
My eyebrows rise. “That’s why you started a bar brawl?”
“That’s what friends are for!” Molly declares proudly.
Friends. I’ve never hated a word more. We are not friends. We are something worse than that. I’m his jailer. His keeper. His guard and pimp. And I’m starting to realize that I don’t want to be those things. I don’t want to be his friend either. I think I want to be something much more than that.
Molly trips over nothing, and I steady him. We make it into the elevator and out along the corridor. I unlock the door to the apartment. We stagger towards the living area.
