Chapter 9

She stares at me, unmoving.

I cannot seem to move either, even though a few moments ago my body was more than capable of moving without intending to.

Her cheeks are flushed.

My eyes are drawn to the swell of her breasts as her chest rises and falls with every breath.

This is dangerous.

Far too dangerous.

I wrench my gaze away from that tantalizing sight, only to see her lick her lips.

Her pink tongue peeks out, and my pulse quickens.

However, the loud ringing of my phone destroys the moment.

I scowl and pull back, though I’m relieved for the intermission.

That is until I see the call ID.

I close my eyes and release a long sigh before I pick up.

“Mother,” I grumble. “Why are you calling? I’m busy.”

“Marlowe, dear, that’s not how you speak to your mother,” she chides. “Can’t I call to see how my favorite son is doing?”

“I’m not your favorite son and you know it,” I counter.

“Well, second favorite. But it should count, no?”

“Mother,” I groan. “You know I have a job. You can’t be calling me every day just because you’re bored.”

“I’m not bored. Perhaps lonely. But that’s because neither you nor your siblings ever bother to spend time with me,” she whines.

“You’re a retired rich old lady. I’m sure you can find some rich old lady stuff to do.”

“Marlowe!” She releases a scandalized cry. “I raised you for eighteen years. The least you could do is answer when I call and keep me some company. It’s not as if that job of yours is too time-consuming. All you do is sit in front of a computer and delegate tasks,” she continues.

I roll my eyes. Here it goes. While all my siblings have standard careers—lawyers and doctors—my mother has never forgiven me for abandoning my studies to start my own tech company. She thinks it’s beneath our family name. Never mind the fact that I make more than all my brothers combined just from sitting in front of a computer and delegating tasks as she calls it.

“Fine. What did you want to talk about?”

I give Minnie another look before I exit the dressing room and take a seat on the couch. I suppose I can entertain my mother for a while until Minnie gets changed.

Despite my grumbles, I do have a soft spot for my mother.

“Well, Giles called,” she starts.

“When does he not?” I fire back. “You forget that I know he visits you almost daily, Mother. Why you don’t openly date him, I have no idea.”

“W-what? Date Giles? Are you mad, Marlowe? What would people think?”

“I assure you that most people already know you’ve been sleeping with him for years.”

“Marlowe!” She gasps. “What are you talking about?”

Of course she’d feign ignorance. It’s been an open secret for the last twenty years, so I don’t know why she’s still bent on denying it.

“Of course, Mother. Forgive me for implying such a thing. You can continue to hide your affair in plain sight and think no one knows about it.”

“M-M-Marlowe…” she sputters. “That’s what I get for calling you,” she mutters.

“Happy to be of service.” I chuckle.

“Back to the topic at hand,” she resumes in her stern voice. “Giles told me about your incident. He said he handled it, but he also let it drop that there was a lady with you?”

I curse under my breath. Of course Giles would tell Mother that.

“She’s a friend.”

“You don’t have friends. Much less of the opposite gender,” she replies, tongue in cheek.

“I have now.”

“Fabulous! Oh my, dear, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day. I thought it was never going to happen. When I heard Giles, I could not believe it, of course, but then he showed me some of the footage from that diner.”

“He was supposed to get rid of that,” I mumble.

“He did, after he showed it to me, of course.”

“And you say you’re not involved in any way.”

“That’s neither here nor there, dear. I must say I was surprised to see the state of the girl. She was barely clothed, for God’s sake. Where did you find her, Marlowe? Not that I’m complaining. God forbid. I’m very happy to see you in the company of someone else, regardless of whether she’s a little street urchin or not. She isn’t, is she?”

“And if she were?” I ask, just to bait her.

There’s no point in lying to her now since Giles must have told her all the details already. If he weren’t so damn good at his job, I would have stopped using him the moment I heard about his involvement with my mother.

Alas. Even if I prefer to keep my distance from my family, at the end of the day, what happens in our family, stays there.

“Well, I can’t be picky now, of course. If that’s what you like…” Her voice wobbles. She takes a deep breath and continues. “I’d like to meet her. I have already made a reservation at the Atera for the end of the month.”

“Now wait a moment. What did you just say?” I stand up and pace around.

“You don’t think I’m going to miss this chance for anything in the world, do you? I had already resigned myself to never seeing you with anyone before I die,” she says in a dramatic tone. “So imagine my surprise when not only did I see you with a woman, but you held hands! You barely let me touch you and you held hands with that young lady? Well, I must meet her.”

“Mother.” I take a deep breath. “There will be no meeting of any sort. I’ll see you at your birthday party next month. That’s enough.”

“How can you say that? Once a year is never enough, dear. No, I will not have it. The reservation is for the last Wednesday of this month at seven in the evening. I shall see you there, with your young lady.”

“And if I don’t?” I drawl.

“Then I’ll get your home address out of Giles and I’ll never leave you alone until the day I die. I’ll put up a tent in front of your house and you will not be able to kick me out.”

“Did you just threaten to annoy me for the rest of your life?”

“Precisely.” She releases a loud humph.

“May I remind you that you would not last a day in a tent?” I laugh.

“Then it shall be a battle of wills,” she confidently replies. “May the strongest win.”

Fucking hell. I’m never going to get rid of her until she meets Minnie, that much is for sure.

“Fine,” I eventually agree. “But remember. She’s just a friend. You will not make her uncomfortable.”

There’s a pause on the line before my mother chuckles.

“Of course, dear. I’ll be the picture of decorum. Just make sure she’s wearing something more…appropriate.”

Shaking my head, I end the call and place the phone in my pocket.

Minnie exits the dressing room and regards me curiously.

“My mother wants to meet you,” I tell her.

She blinks. “She…does?”

“She somehow found out about you and now she wants to get to know you over dinner. But it’s fine if you don’t want to come,” I quickly amend.

What I wouldn’t give to get myself out of this mess, but the truth is that it’s very unlikely I’ll be able to.

When my mother puts her mind to something, it’s impossible to dissuade her. I have no doubt she would make good on her threat to camp outside my home, in a tent no less.

My lips flatten in annoyance.

“No, no. I would love to,” Minnie says, her lips slowly spreading into a smile.

I grunt.

“Let’s go,” I tell her, helping her with her clothes.

She pulls her cap lower to hide her features and follows behind me.

We get to the check-out, but there are at least ten people in front of us.

I curse under my breath.

I should have asked someone else to come shop with her—a personal stylist or whatever women use. Perhaps I should have ordered her something online and be done with it. But it would have taken days for it to arrive and she needs the clothes and shoes now.

I take a deep breath.

I hate waiting.

From the corner of my eye, I spot the Halloween clearance section, and something catches my attention.

A maid costume.

A flash of Minnie wearing that around the house while she cleans appears in my mind, and I hum in approval.

That would not be a bad sight at all.

It would be her work uniform, no?

“Wait here. I need to get something,” I say before I leave the queue.

There are a number of variations of maid costumes. Some are downright skimpy, with skirts that are not longer than the width of my palm.

No, that would not do.

I don’t need more temptation.

I browse the costumes until I find a more conservative one. The black dress is knee-high, with white lace detail around the hem, sleeves, and collar. There’s a white apron included.

I check the back label and note that it’s made out of one hundred percent cotton.

Good. This should be gentle on her skin.

I grab one of them and head back to the line.

I’m a few steps away when I note another woman talking to Minnie. I can’t hear what she’s saying yet, but Minnie’s body language tells me this is not a welcome interaction. The woman grabs her hand and whispers something in her ear.

By the time I get to her side, I can only hear one sentence.

“They will come for you. You need to leave?—”

My lip twitches.

“Any problem?” I ask as I slap the woman’s hand aside. Immediately, I pull Minnie to my side, holding her tightly against my body.

The woman in question glares at us. Her hair is a deep shade of red, and her dark eyes flash red too.

I blink. What the fuck?

“He doesn’t know who you are, does he?” The woman’s lips curve into a smile.

One glance at Minnie, and I see the way her shoulders stiffen. Her lips tremble, and I swear I note some moisture clinging to her lashes.

“You need to leave. Now,” I grit out.

The woman’s laughter echoes in her wake as she steps away from us. But at no point does she take her eyes off Minnie, nor is her gaze any less threatening.

“What was that about?”

Minnie shrugs.

“I don’t know. She scared me,” she murmurs as she huddles closer to my side.

I wrap an arm around her shoulders.

“What did she mean by that? Who will come for you?”

Another shrug, though this one has less conviction.

“Some people are just weird, no?” She attempts a laugh.

I narrow my eyes at her.

She was scared. Of that I have no doubt. But there’s more to this interaction than meets the eye, and for some reason, Minnie refuses to tell me the truth.

Hmm.

I don’t press her on it. I should have plenty of information on her and her entire life once I do a deep dive into her.

We reach the counter and I unload our cart.

The cashier starts scanning the items, and the total ends up somewhere in the five figures. I give her my black card, and she completes the payment.

Minnie’s eyes widen and her hold on my arm tightens.

“That’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I agree.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you back somehow?”

Ah, the little heathen fell right into my trap.

“You don’t have to pay me. But,” I say as I take out the maid costume from one of the bags. “This is your uniform. From now on, you’ll clean my house wearing this.”

She takes the package out of my hands and studies it with a frown.

“Oh. I can do that.” She nods confidently. “It’s pretty, too.”

“Of course it is. I chose it personally.” I grunt.

That went…better than expected. Suddenly, my head swims in visions of Minnie wearing that maid uniform—unnatural visions that I should put an immediate stop to.

Alas. I’ll only admire the sight from afar.

Perhaps there’s something rather…irresistible about her. Otherwise, I don’t see why I’d change decades-long worth of convictions for her convenience.

As we leave the store, the same thing happens again. Men turn and stare. One by one, they look at Minnie with an inscrutable expression on their faces. Those who get a better look at her get that same glazed look in their eyes and they stop whatever they’re doing to follow us.

“You were not kidding when you said men suddenly want you,” I add in a dry voice.

It takes everything in me not to stop and make a scene, perhaps beat one or two of the men on our trail to a pulp. Agh, my blood is boiling just thinking about my fist making contact with their faces. And for once, I barely remember my revulsion about touching them barehanded and making contact with their blood. In fact, I’m almost craving it.

I look back and note five men currently on our trail. They appear to be in some kind of trance since they bump into people but barely acknowledge it. Their eyes are solely on Minnie, and their sole focus is getting closer to her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, glancing back. A shiver goes down her back.

“Is it always like this?” My voice is a little rougher than intended, but I still can’t wrap my mind around it.

Is she a goddamn siren? Because I can no longer deny that not only does she have a strange effect on those of the male variety, but she has a strange effect on me too. How else would anyone explain the fact that I let her live in my sanctuary, that I overlooked her egregious breaking of my rules, or that I took her shopping?

Or, the most outrageous thing yet is that I find her cute.

I scowl as my frustration mounts—at myself and at those fucking losers who think to follow her.

She gives me a guilty nod.

“I try to avoid populated areas,” she answers. “But it’s not always possible.”

Of course it’s not fucking possible if she’s homeless. Good grief, what has this slip of a woman had to endure while living on the streets? I can hardly imagine, and to my surprise, a surge of protectiveness appears in my chest.

We pick up our speed. As soon as I get the keys to my car from the valet, we load the bags in the trunk and get inside.

The men are not far behind, so I start the car and steer it out of the parking lot.

“And you’re telling me you’ve never been with a man?” I raise a brow.

That in itself is strange with the amount of attention she attracts. But even stranger is my reaction to the thought of her being with someone else.

She immediately shakes her head.

“Why not? You’re twenty-five. That’s unusual at your age, is it not?”

My focus is on the road, but I still glance at her from the corner of my eyes every now and then.

“Is it?” She shrugs. “That type of intimacy is only reserved for someone special.”

“Someone special?” My brows go up in question.

A wistful smile appears on her face.

“My soulmate,” she continues. “It’s reserved only for my soulmate.”

I narrow my eyes at her.

My blood pounds aggressively against my temples.

“You speak as if you already know who that is,” I mention slowly.

Her smile grows brighter.

“I do. He’s someone from my past. I hope to get together with him again at some point,” she answers sweetly. The moment she mentions him, the cadence of her voice changes.

And I don’t fucking like it.

Not one bit.

“Who?” The question comes out as aggressive. My mistake.

She startles at my tone and regards me with apprehension.

“If you know who he is, why not seek his help?”

She takes a deep breath.

“It’s…complicated.”

My nostrils flare.

“I don’t see how it’s complicated,” I bite out. “If he’s your soulmate or whatever, he should have helped you in some way, no?”

She purses her lips and starts fidgeting with her hands—a sign she’s getting nervous.

“He would if he knew,” she murmurs in a low voice.

“If that were me, I’d make it my business to know. Not knowing is not an excuse,” I continue, though I have no clue where this is coming from. Yet as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize that this is the truth.

If I had such a person, I’d cross mountains and seas to get to her. Hell, she would not be lost to me in the first place because I’d never let her out of my sight.

“You don’t know him.” She glares at me.

I shrug.

“Have you ever been in love, Marlowe?” she suddenly asks.

I turn to look at her.

“No,” I answer immediately.

“Why?”

“What type of question is that?”

“A simple one. You’re old enough. Why haven’t you been in love until now?”

I don’t like where this line of questioning is going.

“I don’t have the interest, nor the inclination for it.”

She tilts her head to the side and studies me. She crosses her arms over her chest as if to tell me she means business.

“And what type of inclination would that be?”

“I’m not the sentimental type.”

It is what it is and I don’t plan to make any excuses for it. I prefer to live in solitude and secrecy, although that will prove to be harder now with her around me.

I scowl as I once more ask myself why I’m allowing this little stranger to invade my life thusly.

“Have you ever been in a relationship?” she counters with another question.

“Minnie. For fuck’s sake, what’s with all these questions?” I ask angrily.

“You’re swearing again.” She shakes her head at me. “You asked me private questions. I think it’s only fair I ask you the same.”

“What, next you’re going to ask me how many women I’ve fucked?” I roll my eyes at her.

“How many?” she asks pointedly. She wiggles in her seat and comes closer to me, her eyes boring a hole in me.

“It’s none of your fucking business,” I grit out.

“How many, Marlowe?” she repeats, this time with more emphasis. Her eyes flash at me, and before I know it, she pulls my steering wheel to the left, almost causing us to have a direct collision with another car.

I curse aloud and maneuver the car to the side, parking it by the side of the road.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I call out, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. “You almost killed us, Minnie. For fuck’s sake.”

Her lips are pressed in a tight line as she glares at me defiantly. There’s a fire in her eyes that burns so hot, my body unwittingly reacts.

I should be mad.

I should be fucking fuming.

But instead, there’s only an ardent desire for…more.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“How many, Marlowe? Tell me,” she demands.

I’ve gotten used to the meek version of Minnie—the soft temperament that fits her outer appearance. Yet seeing her now, like this, makes me wonder just how much of that was true. What truly hides behind her sweet face?

“What’s your body score?” she asks as she leans forward. She’s the epitome of seriousness, but how can I take her seriously when she’s always using the wrong idioms?

“You mean body count?” I repeat jokingly.

She doesn’t laugh. She just openly glares at me.

“Body score, body count. Whatever. What is it?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” I wiggle my brows at her suggestively.

“Tell me!” she demands impatiently.

“One hundred and fifty-seven,” I answer with a straight face.

Her mouth drops open in shock. She blinks repeatedly, swallowing hard.

Slowly, she moves away from me, settling back into her seat and staring into open space. There’s a slow tremor that goes down her spine, and she places her hands in her lap, fidgeting with them.

“Satisfied now?” I attempt to lighten the mood.

She doesn’t even look at me. She continues to stare in the distance as she gives me a tight nod—one that’s seemingly filled with pain.

I frown.

Her reaction is strange and I don’t know what to make of it.

Yet I also can’t tell her the truth. My body count is one hundred and fifty-seven. As in one hundred and fifty-seven people that I’ve killed.

But she doesn’t need to know that.