The drawer refused to shut as I nudged it with my hip, the documents inside almost as useless as that cute little note was. She deserved more than what I’d done to her. I refrained from shoving my cock into that lying mouth of hers earlier, but now—now, there was no holding back.
Something rattled to the floor right as a glint caught in the corner of my vision. I bent down and reached for it with little thought, then jolted my hand back. Sliding the chair from the desk with my now-bloody hand, more shards of curved glass fell to the floor, a faint lipstick stain smudged on what would have been the rim.
That sneaky bitch.
Lyra had never been good at giving in. If someone told her to do something, she’d fight it tooth-and-nail. I used to find it endearing—now, it just pissed me the fuck off. It was clear what path she’d chosen from our discussion in the kitchen, and neither were the options I gave.
My phone lit up with a message, the words, ‘FRAUD PREVENTION’ being the only reason why I spared it a second glance. My fingers curled in, the blood winding its way around my knuckles as I noticed my wallet sitting all-too-neatly on top of my dresser.
With my unharmed hand, I ripped the drawer back open and sifted the papers out, my smile twisting with a new thought—a way to kill two birds with one stone. I shuffled her note back out and flipped it over, then pulled out a pen. As I scribbled, Imouthed the words I was writing in anger, causing the blunt to bounce up and down between my lips.
This would either be the stupidest fucking thing I’d ever done, or the most brilliant. And it had been there, staring me in the face like a sign from my dear, dead parents.
If Lyra Thomas thought my roommate or any outside factor would protect her from me, she had another thing coming.
8
Lyra
The Deal
Swiping the gold credit card, I took the white paper bag before the transaction could come up declined. A receipt printed, and the tension in my shoulders fled like the sun was doing beyond the floor-to-ceiling window panes. The woman—aboutmid-50s with peppered black, shoulder-length hair—stuffed the pointless thing into the overfilled bag, her gaze wandering over my thin top.
“Need anything else, honey?”
I smoothed a hand over my bra strap. “I think this will do, for now.”
“Did you see the blouses we have?”
Lifting the bag, I turned for the door. “Like I said—this will do.”
“We have a sale next—” The door closed before I heard what else she’d beg me to buy. The entirety of my belongings fit into my trunk with ease, and as much as I wanted to spend every last penny I could, I’d have nowhere to keep it all. Flipping the card in my fingers, I smiled down at it before tucking it into my shorts.
I tossed the bag on the passenger seat as I slid into my car and drove back down the roads I tried so hard to forget. When my phone buzzed, I expected it to be Sophia, begging me for dick pics that I didn’t have or plan to ever have. An icy chill washed over me as I answered.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Ms. Lyra Thomas?”
I cleared my throat and straightened in my seat. “This is. Is there an update?”
The woman on the line paused as what sounded like paper rustled in the background. “He’s being moved to another room. Do you want to know the number this time?”
“No,” I answered quickly, then cleared my throat again. “Sorry, but not at the moment. I’m a little busy and don’t have a pen.”
“That’s fine. Do you want us to call—”
“I’ll call back tomorrow.” I hung up before she could gauge my animosity, which was thicker than the current humidity.
Growing up in Florida had taught me a lot of useless things—one of those being the ability to tell when rain was coming. Not a single cloud in the sky, but tonight, or possibly tomorrow, the rain would flood out the house I grew up in. The same house I was avoiding like the plague, picking Car’s over that hell-hole as the lesser of two evils.
Had he not shown that sliver of vulnerability the night before when he went down on me, I would have been gone before his fucking rooster could wake me. I tossed my phone next to the bag as I pulled up to a stop sign, then sifted through the bag and pulled out one of the several lacy bras I put on his tab.
Forcing me to stay in his room at night was going to come at a price, and I intended for him to pay for it every step of the way.
A truck honked behind me, then drove around my stopped car, blaring their horn over and over as they shouted through their closed window. As they drove around me, I waved at them with a sweet smile plastered on—the same smile that drew Jamie, and most other men, to me. Brakes illuminated before the truck moved in reverse, but this time, the window was down.
A rather attractive man in the driver’s seat leaned over, gesturing for me to roll my window down. As I did so, I stuffed the lace back into the bag.
