Page 83 of Dark Notes

With the cat crouched and mewing in the back seat, there’s only one thing left that will bring her back to Treme.

I make an unplanned stop, pulling up to the curb along the barred windows of the store.

She twists in the seat and searches my face. “What are we doing here?”

“The old man hasn’t seen you in a couple days. Go in there, give him your phone number, and tell him you’re safe.”

That wins me a huge smile before she leaps out and dashes inside.

An hour later, while dining in my kitchen over a spread of catered quesadillas, Ivory gives me her written list of bills. Just like I specified, it includes items she needs to buy, such as miscellaneous school supplies, deodorant, and tampons. I grin when I see birth control on the list.

She tries to tell me what I will and won’t do with her bills, but I shut her up with my lips fused to hers and my fingers in her cunt. Her back bows over the kitchen island, our empty plates rattling with the thrust of my hand. Two orgasms later, she stumbles into the living room to work on her homework, argument forgotten.

My bruised knuckles are still too tender to play piano, so I run on my treadmill, shower, and jack off to memories of her head tilted back, throat exposed, legs spread, writhing and vulnerable in my arms. Vulnerable to all the dirty, depraved things I fantasize about doing to every hole in her body. Christ, if she only knew what I have planned for her.

Before exiting the shower, I rub out another orgasm because fucking hell, I’ll be sleeping beside her tonight.

I tell myself she’s not ready for the kinky, savage way I fuck, but in the back of my mind, there’s an expiration date on my self-control. A date that’s attached to her doctor’s appointment on Saturday—only four days away. I have this strong coiling need to be with her without anything between us, including condoms. Once her test results confirm I can do that, all bets are off.

She moves to the bedroom to finish her homework with Schubert curled up beside her. I slip into my office and set up the payments to cover her family’s measly expenses. I consider paying off their mortgage. It would be easier, but fuck them. I’ll fund their bills until Ivory graduates, only because I don’t want to give them a reason to go looking for her. After that, they can sleep under a fucking bridge.

I reach out to my catering service and have them add Stogie to their daily route. He might refuse the food. Or maybe he’ll see it for what it is: my gratitude for offering Ivory a safe place to go all these years.

With that finished, I place a few more phone calls, find a reliable PI, and make contact. Ending the conversation, the investigator has very little to go on. A name. A license plate number. But he ensures me it’s enough.

By the end of the week, the PI proves his worth by providing everything I need to move forward.

I know exactly how I’ll deal with Lorenzo Gandara.

Friday afternoon, I head toward my locker in Campus Center. Ellie hurries alongside me, going on about how I have a fast skip in my step. Rather than pointing out that her legs are shorter than mine, I slow my gait and playfully hip-check her.

“You seem different.” She smiles up at me, blinking angular brown eyes. “That’s all I’m saying.”

She hasn’t mentioned my new clothes. No, she’s too busy trying to find hidden meaning in the way I walk.

“You’re…lighter. You know, like easy breezy.” She springs ahead of me and bounces backward toward our lockers, her black ponytail whipping around her neck. “You have a boyfriend, don’t you?”

I don’t know what Emeric is, but it definitely doesn’t begin with boy. “So you think a guy is some magical remedy for weight loss? Or maybe you’re saying I’m gassy?”

She laughs and spins around to dial in her combination. “You’re so weird.”

I open my locker and find a small folded paper on top of the textbooks. With a huge smile, I reach in and touch it. Stroke it.

Emeric’s been leaving me notes all week. Just imagining him scrawling each one in his eloquent script and walking out of his way to slip it through the vent on my locker door sends a flutter through my chest.

Ellie stands a few feet away, distracted by her phone.

I hold the note inside the locker and unfold it.

I want you.

I wait for you.

You have me.

He makes my soul ache. I read it again, and my whole body aches. When I close my eyes, I hear his deep voice, feel his bruising touch, and taste the cinnamon on his breath. He’s with me, always surrounding me, lifting me. Damn, maybe I am more light-footed.