Page 102 of He Should Be Mine

“Thank you,” he whispers hoarsely.

His eyes close again, and tears leak out of them. Big fat ones that roll down his cheeks.

I reach out and pull him to me. My arms wrap around him and I hold the warm weight of him close.

He smells of strawberries today.

We stand in the summer sunlight. Embracing while he cries softly. I have no idea if it is enough.

Everything that has been smoldering in my soul is now igniting into flames. Resolution and determination are burning through me.

Molly is worth the world. I am right to take over the Ajello empire for him.

He will be mine, and then he will never need to cry again.

Inever thought I’d be glad to be back in this apartment, but here we are. Two days after our disastrous trip to the country and everything finally feels normal. We have settled back into our familiar routines, and there is something oddly reassuring about that.

I pour my mid-afternoon coffee into my favorite mug. Molly is in his room, so I might as well take my coffee back to my room.

I look over at the empty sofa and my heart freezes. There, almost casually draped over the back, is my blanket. The one I wrapped him up in when he was sick. The one he has slept in every night since.

Why is it out here? What does it mean? Is it a rejection? A symbol of something? A sign that he is angry with me?

My feet carry me over to the blanket. My fingers run over it. The scent of strawberries and peaches waft through the air.

Molly.

I inhale deeply.

Ah, now I understand. A grin stretches over my face. The blanket no longer smells of me. Molly is requestingfor it to be refreshed. So, I will sleep with it tonight and then return the blanket to him.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, scattering all of my happy thoughts. Scowling, I fish it out of my pocket. As soon as I see the notification, my good mood returns.

There is a parcel waiting at the concierge desk. And I know exactly what it is.

Abandoning my coffee, I hurry out of the door.

It only takes me a few minutes to pop down to the front desk, retrieve the package and return to the apartment.

I find Molly in the living area. His gaze drops down to the parcel tucked under my arm, and a look of relief crosses over his face.

Shit, I should have told him where I was going. He would have heard me running out, and he clearly was wondering what the hell was going on. I shouldn’t be so careless. He doesn’t need any more stress in his life.

I hand him the parcel as if it is an offering and an apology, when in reality the gift is mostly for my benefit.

His brow furrows, but he takes it. “I didn’t order anything.”

“You order so much shit, there is no way you can keep track.”

His eyes narrow, but he says nothing. He simply works on ripping the cardboard open.

Then he pauses. “Oh, I have heard good things about this sex toy company!” He pulls the bright pink dildo out and starts waving it around. “They do great custom ones, apparently. You can order a kit and take a mold of your dick and they can turn it into a personalized dildo!” he exclaims happily.

“Is that so,” I say dryly, with my very best poker face.

Molly falls as motionless as a statue. He is holding the dildo aloft like it is a magic wand and he is a wizard about to cast a spell. He stares at me as his eyes slowly widen.

Then he lowers the sex toy and examines it closely. His finger runs over a vein.