Ma-Ri hums in the back of her throat. “Must have, since you’re here to talk girls with me.”
“Not girls,” I correct. “Just one. Just… her.”
“What makes her so special?” Ma-Ri asks as I suck back another gulp of the whiskey. It burns like fire once more through my system, almost shocking me out of the sullen mood I’ve been in since I walked through her doors.
I raise my eyes to the woman before me. “What’s so special about her?” I repeat the question, both confused and surprised she would ask me that.
Ma-Ri continues to pass her lips between her glass and cigarette.
Whatisso special about Juliet?I contemplate the question. Why does it hurt so fucking much that she left like that?
“Because,” I begin after a moment. “She’s mine…” Ours. Juliet Donovan sold her soul to us. Shecan’tjust walk away.
“Hmmmm.” The old woman hums once more and when I shoot a dark look her way, her slender shoulders rise and fall in a casual manner. “What are you looking at me like that for?” she asks. “You’re the one who said it.”
“She’s gone,” I say. “She left. She went back to…” I can’t say it. My throat constricts and closes up, refusing to let the words pass through. I bite down on a curse and turn my head awayfrom Ma-Ri. “She told us she was tired of fighting and she didn’t want to be passed between us anymore.”
“Did she?” Ma-Ri’s words have my attention returning to her face. Her eyes glimmer with something keen. She sits forward and sets her half-empty glass on her desk. Her small hand—wrinkled but tipped in red nails that match her lipstick perfectly—spreads on the surface. “Juliet never struck me as the type to take the easy road. She’s a stubborn girl. I would question any sudden change or decision she makes that might seemingly make everything easier for her.”
“Question it?” I stare at her.
“Yes.” Ma-Ri nods. “Question everything,joka. Always question answers that seem too simple. The chances are, they aren’t the right ones.”
34
JULIET
Stuart pulls up in front of the three-story monstrosity that is Morpheus Calloway’s mansion. It’s a European-style building with whitewash fronts, a slanted gray roof, and windows so pristine, it almost appears as if there’s no glass at all. I’ve cleaned up my face somewhat by the time we arrive, but I’m sure my cheeks are red and splotchy and my eyes are swollen.
The sedan comes to a rolling stop in front of the porch steps and Morpheus descends from where he’d been waiting. Instead of allowing Stuart to get out and round the car, Morpheus is the first one at my door. It swings wide and he reaches a hand in. A hand that I ignore as I set one Converse-covered foot on the ground and lift myself from the low car.
“Juliet, I’m so happy you’ve decided to come back,” Morpheus begins.
I stride past him without a word and ascend the stairs.
“Miss Donovan!” Stuart’s appalled tone has me turning to face the two of them as I reach the top.
Stuart is standing somewhat behind Morpheus, his gaze flickering from his boss to me and back again with anxious offense. Morpheus’ face is frozen in a mask of politeness, but I can tell by the set of his shoulders and the rigidness of his jawthat he’s irritated. A vein throbs in his throat just below the cut of his chin.
“Which room is mine?” I ask. “I’m tired.”
“Of course you are, dear.” Morpheus moves forward, taking the steps one at a time in that graceful, carefully planned way of his. The nearer he draws, the tighter my muscles contract. “I’ll be happy to show you to your room, but first, I’d like to introduce you to my staff.”
“Your staff?” I frown at him. It’s only been a few months since I last stayed here. Surely, he should remember that I already know them.
“I can do that, Mr. Calloway,” Stuart says behind him, hurrying for the stairs.
“No.” Morpheus’ tone is sharp and Stuart halts before setting his loafer-clad foot on the first step. “You may go back to your regular duties. I’ll call you if I need you.”
When Morpheus’ palm lands on my lower back, an insidious and disgusting sense ofwrongnessfills me. I want to punch him right then and there when the tips of his fingers graze against my ass. Instead of groping me, however—I should’ve known he wouldn’t do so in front of witnesses—he merely plucks my phone out of my pocket and holds it up as if he’s won a prize.
“Shall we?” Taking my phone with him and slipping it into his own pocket, Morpheus moves forward, opening the front door and motioning me inside.
My breath catches as I follow him. To anyone else, stepping inside his beautiful and wondrously large home would feel like entering a castle, but to me… all I see is a pretty cage that I’ve already escaped once before. Something tells me this time will be much harder.
Morpheus must sense my last-minute hesitation because he inclines his head towards me and drops his voice into a quiet, almost whisper. “Do not make a scene in front of my employees,darling,” he says. “You would not like what I do to your friends should you choose to disobey and disrespect me in my own home.”
Shooting him daggers with my eyes, I slam my foot down just inside the door and walk through. I didn’t need the added reminder that I’m not here of my own free will but because of his fucking threats.
