Page 124 of The Loathing

“What the fuck am I going to do?” I pace up and down, before twisting my wrist to check the time. Scrolling, I find Nate’s number.

“I need your help,” I wish I could hide the panic in my voice, but I can’t. As the seconds tick past, I am losing my mind.

“What’s happened?”

“Find Wolfe, I need to know where Amora is.”

“Ping me over anything you have and I’ll track him down. Are you okay?”

“I will be, god, I should have listened to Kaleb and just brought her home to New York,” and I hear Nate sigh as he taps away on his keyboard.

“No you shouldn’t have, because then you would have made this mess even messier, I have faith. You’ll be home soon though… right?” I hear slight hesitation in his voice.

“I hope so… why, what’s happened?” My brows raise, my hand dragging down my face.

“Nothing,” his tone is clipped, “just wanting to know… it’s been a while.”

“Nate,” I grit. I know this fucker better than I know myself.

“It’s nothing, I mean, I was just wondering what the deal is with Amora… I mean…”

“I haven’t even thought about it…” my hand moves to the back of my neck as I rub, letting my head roll back. “We’re not together, we haven’t spoken about what comes after this… but she knows that once she is married to Wolfe, I am on my way home without her.”

“Is that what you want?” Nate asks but his voice is low.

“Fuck no, the thought of her marrying…” I can’t even finish my sentence without my chest tightening, a lump forming and lodging in my throat.

“It’ll be okay,” it’s not much from Nate, it never is… but that is enough.

“Is Arizona, okay?” I change the subject because I feel as if I am suffocating.

“Yeah, we haven’t seen much of her, but Keaton says she is getting on just fine.”

“Well at least that’s something.”

“Yeah.”

“I miss you all.”

“And we miss you, now get the details over and I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay, bye.”

“See ya.”

And I just stare into the room.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

AMORA

“You do realise you’re not meant to go anywhere with me, without Titus?” I say, staring out of the back passenger window not wanting to look at Wolfe.

“You do realise,” he pauses, and I feel his eyes on me, before he adverts his gaze to his driver “I don’t give a fuck,” and I hear the viciousness in his tone. Freezing when I feel his hand creeping onto my bare thigh. “You do realise,” he continues in his sleazy voice, “you belong to me,” his fingers glide higher and under the hem of my pastel blue and white sun dress.

I grab his wrist, stopping him from moving any higher and turn my face to look at him.

---