Page 25 of Rent: Paid in Full

Eloise watches me from her spot on my desk, making no attempt to hide her contempt. If anyone has mastered the act of judging Judily, it’s Eloise. Green eyes narrow to slits as she dispenses a series of no-nonsense swats every time I attempt to touch my keyboard.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, despite knowing she won’t answer.

She doesn’t. Just turns at her leisure, arches her back, and flicks a downy tail left and right across my face, bestowing an entirely nonconsensual view of her asshole upon me. A close one at that.

I scoop her up and hold her to my chest, breathing her in. She hisses halfheartedly and then goes completely limp in my arms.

It’s almost her dinner time, so I head to the kitchen to get her food ready.

“Are you hungry, Ellie-cat? Are you hungry, my teeny tiny kitty-cat?” I hear someone at the front door, so I put her down and quickly step away from her. “Don’t you dare tell him I’m like this,” I warn.

She sits back and blinks at me slowly, the feline equivalent of an eye roll if ever I’ve seen one. She gives me a look that leaves me in no doubt whatsoever that ratting me out to Miller will be the very first thing she does if she ever takes it upon herself to learn English.

“Did you forget your key?” I ask as I open the door, expecting to see Miller. “Oh.” I take a step back. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

The stranger on my doorstep is dressed in business attire that gives intense, made-to-measure vibes. He has neat, symmetrical features and the most upright posture I’ve seen on anyone outside the military. His hair is impeccably styled, but unlike someone I know, his is held in place courtesy of a shit-ton of product. He has a nice face. Kind eyes, ruddy cheeks, and a nervous smile that makes him look mildly constipated.

I can’t tell if I like him for sure, but I might.

I definitely don’t hate him on sight. Let’s put it like that.

Miller thinks it’s huge progress that my first instinct is no longer to think the absolute worst about people. And as much as it’s truly terrible having to admit when he’s right, in this case, I think he might be.

“May I help you?” I ask.

“Um, yes, thank you. I’m Wyn, Mr. MacAvoy’s assistant, and I ha—”

Hmm, might have spoken too soon about liking him.

“Excuse me, bud, but I’m the closest thing Mr. MacAvoy has to an assistant. I think I’d know if he’d hired someone else.”

“Oh no. No, no. I mean Mr. MacAvoy Senior. I-I’m Derek MacAvoy’s assistant.”

Lots of things fall into place at once.

A male assistant for Derek?

Incredible.

This has Barbara Ann MacAvoy stamped all over it, and I have to say, it’s kind of impressive. The woman is hell on wheels, but she does have life skills. Serious life skills. She has a unique understanding of people and the world around her, and she isn’t afraid to use them.

Want to make someone your bitch?

Just ask Barbara Ann how. She’ll tell you. And if you’re not very careful, she’ll demonstrate the technique on you for her own entertainment.

I’ve gotten to know Miller’s parents over the years, and let’s just say navigating my way through that hornet’s nest hasn’t been without its challenges. To my endless surprise, I find Barbara Ann and Derek tolerable in their own right. More than tolerable. Individually, they both have their redeeming qualities if you look hard enough. It’s just that, as an ensemble, they’re the worst. The living worst.

The two of them together are unbearable, and it’s only gotten worse with each passing year. So much so that when the fourth major argument broke out while we were visiting them for Thanksgiving break a couple of months ago, Miller lost his shit, jumped up, banged his fists on the dining table, and yelled, “Get a divorce already!” so loudly the vein in his forehead popped out.

That little outburst set things in motion, and now here we are, miles and miles from where they live in LA, but somehow still embroiled in the fallout of their impending divorce.

“All right, in that case, how may I help you?” I ask.

He swings his shoulder bag around from his side to the front of his body and riffles through it, pulling out an A4-sized envelope with the MacAvoy Group logo emblazoned on the left-hand corner. His cheeks color as he hands it to me.

I can tell he has a lot to learn about MacAvoys in general, and Miller and Derek in particular.

“Ah, another Cease and Desist, is it?” I smile.

He gulps. “Oh no. No, it’s nothing like that. Mr. MacAvoy isn’t alleging that a crime has taken place. Not at all. No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just…just a, um, strongly worded letter from legal, that’s all.”

It’s far from the first time something like this has happened. More like the tenth. It’s exhausting and draining, and unfortunately, in this instance, even I can see that Miller is almost entirely in the wrong.

Still, you don’t deliver a strongly worded letter from legal to my man and not get on my bad side.

“Well,” I say, taking the envelope from him and dropping it onto the pile of unopened mail on the entrance table, “please tell Derek thank you for the letter. I’m sure Miller will read it at his earliest convenience. Sometime this year or next, I imagine.” I put my hand on the door, a none-too-subtle sign that I’m almost ready to conclude this interaction. Almost, but not quite. “And do let him know we’re both looking forward to seeing him at the wedding.”

He’s paying for the entire event, so I think it’s important he attends despite this little kerfuffle.

It’s not the response Will, Wyn, or Whatever His Name Is was expecting. I can’t tell if he looks relieved or if he’s had the wind knocked out of his sails.

Poor thing.

Ordinarily, I’d try harder to set him at ease or at least learn his name, but there’s really no point. There just isn’t. He seems nice and quite possibly normal. He won’t last long. Derek’s PAs never do, and they’re usually the type of women who wear six-inch heels and make it look easy. They’re the type who’ve been hardened by years and years of dealing with the egos of arrogant men.

Dear little Whatever His Name Is looks squeaky clean and brand new. He doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of holding his own against Derek MacAvoy.

In fact, I’d put good money on this being the first and last time I’ll see him.

He zips up his bag, gives me a curt bow from the neck, and turns to leave. I’m still not completely done. Derek has annoyed me with this little display, and I think a last jab is in order.

“And while you’re about it, remind him we’re still waiting to hear back about his plus one. Barbara Ann got her card back to us last week,” I call after him. “She’s bringing her naturopath. Tell Derek that.”

With that, he’s gone and peace is restored.

Eloise turns her nose up at my first dinner offering but accepts the second with a modicum of grace. I consider it a victory. She winds her way through my legs and all but frog-marches me to the sofa. Her intention is clear. I’m expected to sit stock still for at least the next hour, acting as the human version of a TempurPedic while she sleeps off her meal.

My phone buzzes before I’m able to take my position. I get it out of my pocket and look down at the screen. A slow, too-big smile creeps up my face when I see the name on the screen.

Miller Fucking MacAvoy.

Oh, go ahead, judge away.

I don’t need you to tell me I look stupid, believe me, I know. I’m super embarrassed by it, and I’ve tried to stop doing it. Obviously, I have. It’s the last thing I want for myself.

Can”t stop though.

Don’t know how to.

I click on the message.

Running late. Meet me outside in five?

I pull up my collar and dig my hands in my pockets as I wait for Miller. It’s late afternoon, and the February air cuts into my bones. I’m in our usual meeting spot on the corner of the street, a couple of doors down from our house. I see a glint of white as Miller’s truck approaches, and I start walking in the direction he’s coming from to meet him.

He traded his Range Rover for a Toyota Tacoma a few years back, soon after he dropped out of college. He never did get a degree, opting for short courses in construction, design, and project management instead. He considers it an achievement and never misses the opportunity to broadcast it to friends of his family.

As the vehicle approaches, I see Miller pulling his cap down to hide the top half of his face. I roll my eyes and blow a puff of steam out in front of me.

Ugh. Seriously?

Again?

He rolls down the passenger window and slows the truck to a crawl. A dark shadow obscures a sinfully beautiful face, the hard lines of his jaw emphasizing the fleshy curve of his lips.

He looks around furtively. “You working?”

“No! Definitely not. I’m not a—”

He does this all the time. Never gets tired of it. Not even a little bit.

I turn in a huff and head back toward our house. It”s too cold for this shit.

He follows me, engine idling from the low gear, and lowers the window a little more.

“Are you sure, baby? ‘Cause I’m buying.” Teeth scrape over dusty pink flesh in a way that leaves me not entirely unaffected. “And I’ll pay extra for your ass.” I feel his gaze run down my body. Despite the weather, molten honey trickles through my veins. A familiar blend of annoyance and arousal tug at the strings buried in my joints. My thoughts and movements slow. I’m not dancing yet, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be soon. “Hell, I’d pay good money just to see those lips wrapped around my cock.”

“No.” I turn away from him and pull my jacket tight around my neck, pinching my face as tight and prissily as I can. “I would never. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“No? Not that kind of guy, huh? Not the type to take a dick up your ass for money, huh? Ah, I get it. I understand. You got morals or some shit like that.” He stops the vehicle. “I don’t have any of those myself, but I’ve heard of them.”

I smile thinly as the fa?ade cracks minutely.

“Thing is, I’ve got cash and a big, juicy nut with your name on it. Come on, baby, get in. I’ll fuck you good. You’ll like it, I swear. And even if you don’t, you’ll make enough to buy yourself something pretty.”

I reach through the window and unlock the door from inside. I climb in, laughing as I close the window and shiver the last of the icy chill off me. Miller’s laughing too. A sexy-as-fuck chuckle that rolls around in the back of his throat and gives me the distinct impression I’m getting railed tonight whether I like it or not.

Fortunately for me, I like it a lot.

The hours we’ve been apart suddenly feel intolerable, and I can’t stand it for one second more. I throw my arms around him and mash my lips against his, kissing his cheeks and his neck until he squirms in pleasure and everything feels right with the world. I finish him off with a sharp little nip to the earlobe, just to remind him that this bitch bites back. He sucks air through his teeth and stifles a groan.

“Hey, baby,” he says, Miller Miller now, not Miller the Client. “Are you happy to see me?”

I fasten my seatbelt and tuck his hand into its usual spot as he takes off down the street.

I am happy to see him, so I shift my hips to leave him in no doubt about it.

“D’you want me to stop in that alley near the fried chicken place to sort you out?” He looks over at me and tucks his hand a little deeper between my legs, groping my dick harder.

“God, no! I’m not doing that.”

He keeps his eyes on the road and, a while later, murmurs, “Again.”

“Huh?”

“Again. You have to say again to make that statement true and factually correct. You have to say, ‘I’m doing that again,’ because you know damn well you sucked my soul clean out of my body in that alley last Tuesday.”

I bite back the choked laugh that erupts out of me. “Fine, I’m not doing that again. No fucking way. We almost got caught last time. Do you have any idea how bad that would have been?”

He smiles too, but for a different reason. “Yeah, yeah, I can see the headline now: Local Man Caught in Consensual Encounter with Fiancé.” He stops at a stoplight and looks at me, flashing his eyes elaborately. “Scandal.”

“Um, try, Local Parents Revolt: School Counselor Arrested for Public Indecency,” I retort. It makes him laugh, so I up the ante. “Try, Two Men Caught Bumming: Patrons left horrified.”

The memory of that night and the subtle scrape of his nail against the seam of my jeans makes me lose my train of thought. I think Miller must have lost his too because he’s abnormally quiet for a few miles.

He squeezes my thigh when he comes back to the present. “How was your day, baby? Did you get your report done?”

“I did. It was all fine. I handed it in, and Dave said he’d take my recommendations to the board, so that’s good.” My lungs fill, and I feel a quick rush of joy. I’ve been looking forward to telling Miller about this all day. “You’ll never guess what else happened—”

“Did Ms. Magness hit on you again? ‘Cause if she did, I’ll come down there, Ryan, don’t think I won’t. Did you tell her you’re engaged? Have you shown her your ring?”

“For Christ’s sake, Miller, Susan Magness is sixty-three years old and happily married.”

“Oh please, don’t try and tell me either of those things make people immune to guys with big noses, wild eyes, and tight asses. Don’t even try. You know I’ll never believe you. That shit is potent. Once you get a taste for it, there’s no coming back from it.” I give him a long, pointed side eye that eventually takes effect. “Anyway, sorry. Please, keep going.”

“Thank you. Okay, so you know that kid, Travis, the one I’ve been worried about?” Miller keeps his eye on the road but nods. “Well, he didn’t turn up at my class at lunch today. Tasha and Alex didn’t either. Something felt off and I was really worried ‘cause he’s been going through so much, so I put Lucy in charge, and I went looking for him around campus.”

I stop to breathe it in. To steady myself and take a moment to appreciate where I started and where I am now. “You’ll never guess where I found him.” The hand on my thigh is light now. Supportive. There for me, without any force. “You know that bench near the admin building? The old timber one with the broken seat?” There’s a single nod and a soft crease around his eyes. “They were all there. Travis, Tasha, Alex, and the two kids who started the LGBTQ+ Society. They were sitting together, Mills, a whole bunch of them.” I breathe in and out quickly, but my eyes still dampen. “They don’t need to come to my class anymore. They found their people.”

The truck stops, and Miller has me in a headlock, both arms wrapped around me so tightly I can’t breathe. I shriek and try to push him away, but when you really think about it, breathing at times like these isn’t essential. It’s more of a nice-to-have rather than a strict necessity.

“You did that, Ry,” Miller whispers, fingers caging my skull as he speaks into my hair. “You did that.”

The moment passes and Miller puts the car in Park.

“Oh, you know what else happened?” I sigh. “Your dad’s at it again. Had his new PA drop by today.”

“Another Cease and Desist?”

“Nah, just a ‘strongly worded letter from legal’ this time.” Miller looks up and closes his eyes as if the sun is shining on his face, ending a long, cold winter. His contented smirk tells me Derek’s latest move is exactly the outcome he’d hoped for.

He gets out of the truck and comes around to open my door for me. I let him. When we’re both outside, and I’ve been pushed up against the cab and am securely held in place by Miller’s body, I say, “Do you ever think that maybe you could try being a tiny bit less of an ass to your dad? Hmm? He’s going through a lot right now with the divorce, and your mom, and her naturopath, and all that. I mean, like, maybe just cut him a little slack. D’you think you could try that?”

“Incredible.” He shakes his head. “Trust you to take his side and see the best in him. Trust you to have a soft spot for him, no matter how much of a shit he is.”

“I’m don’t. I’m not… He’s… Fine, maybe I do have a soft spot for him, but you know I can’t help it.”

All the light Miller absorbed a few seconds ago alters, changing direction, shining out of his face and lighting his skin until it looks like he’s glowing.

“And why’s that?” he drawls, cocking an evil brow.

Fuck. He’s going to make me say it.

History has taught me there’s no escaping this question. None whatsoever. I deeply, deeply regret ever telling him this. I wish I hadn’t. If I could, I’d go back in time and take it back.

But we are where we are, so I sigh deeply and speak through gritted teeth. “Can’t help it. Can’t hate him even though he’s a dick. Just can’t, ‘cause…”

“Say it.”

“Can’t hate him ‘cause he’s so much like you.” Miller wraps an arm around my neck and lets an absolute belter of a laugh fly free. “Like father like son.”

Like father like son. That’s what Barbara Ann always says.

“Hmph.” Miller absolutely hates it coming from his mother, but he doesn’t seem to mind it coming from me.

“Yeah, well, his new PA better fucking hope not,” I reply. “If your dad’s anything like you, that guy’s ass is in for a world of hurt.”

“Guy?”

“Yeah. I know, right? Can you believe it?”

“A male PA for my dad? No way. Jesus, talk about a case of Mom one, Dad zero.”

I extricate myself from Miller’s arms and take in the property we’ve come to view.

It’s a big, beautiful shithole. Two, maybe three years from being torn down. A double story with an imposing fa?ade. A bygone air of grandness laid into its very foundation.

We take the steps up to the front door, and Miller yanks off a board nailed across it and tosses it onto the porch.

“Maybe we should wait for Sandy?” I suggest hopefully.

Over the years, Miller’s long-suffering realtor, Sandy, has made her opinion on breaking and entering abundantly clear. She’s against it. Doesn’t like it at all. Just the thought of it makes her break out in hives.

“Nah, it’s fine. She’ll be here soon. She won’t mind.” I follow Miller in against my better judgment, drawn in by a sweeping staircase and a double-volume entrance that leaves you no choice but to stand still and look up as reflections from lead pane windows dance on the walls.

“Wow,” I whisper.

It’s one of those rare places. A place with magic imbued into the walls. A place with memory and life. Recollections from a long time ago live here. I feel them. I can’t shake the sense that even though we’re alone in the house, we should tread lightly and speak softly while we’re here.

Miller puts his flashlight on and shines a broad beam up the staircase. “There are five bedrooms upstairs, but I’m thinking one will have to go to gain an en suite and a dressing room.”

I nod in agreement. Kitchens and main bedrooms sell houses. Everyone knows that. “Can we go up?”

“No. I took the stairs the first time I came. Leaned on the balustrade while I was talking to Sandy and that whole piece fell down. Barely even touched it.” He shines the light on the gaping hole in the railing and shows me the section that landed on the floor. We step around it and head down the hall. There’s a drawing room, a sitting room, and a separate dining room. The kitchen is hidden in the back of the house.

“Check this out.” His voice lilts up, and I know that this is it, the thing he loves about this house. The thing that makes it unique. It’s the W + A he showed me back in our dorm room. The reason he does projects like these. Projects that take time and cost him blood, sweat, and tears. Projects that are about building things rather than breaking them down.

His eyes sparkle as he opens the pantry door and shines the light on the doorframe. There are fine horizontal markings all the way up it. A ballpoint pen carved into gloss paint. From two feet to just over six. A marking for each year that passed.

It’s a map of the children who lived here and the route they took growing up.

Colin, Graham, and Sarah.

I love it.

“Can you keep it?”

It’s a silly question, as I know there’s nothing on Earth that could make him erase this part of the house’s history. Nothing at all. Nothing ever. I only ask him to hear the soft, smooth purr in his voice when he says it.

“Yeah, I’ll keep it.”

“Do you think you’ll tear down this wall?” I tap on the plaster that separates the kitchen and dining room.

“Yeah, and this one too. It’ll open the space and brighten it up, plus, it will let the outdoors in.”

He opens a rickety stable door just off the kitchen, persuading it with a shoulder and, when that doesn’t work, a sturdy kick. I flinch and step back as splinters of wood fly.

Sandy won’t like that.

She won’t like it a bit.

The back veranda is deep, wrapping all the way around the south side of the house. It’s covered in cobwebs, and when we step onto it, the scuttle of tiny claws on timber lets me know we’re nowhere near as alone as I thought we were.

The light has changed since we’ve been here. Late afternoon has given way to evening. Dusky pinks and oranges streak the sky, breathing life into a garden forgotten by time.

Miller stands behind me, curling one arm around my waist and dropping a soft kiss on my neck. He raises the flashlight and washes the gnarled branches of an old tree in artificial light. “A lemon,” he whispers, moving the beam to a neighboring tree. “A lime.” He moves it again, this time to a young tree, supple, espaliered, and so recently planted the ground beneath it still shows signs of disturbance. “And a peach tree for you.”

My heart lurches, flying up from my chest and landing in my throat. I tighten my grip on the hand Miller has around me and take two breaths to steady myself.

“Sandy isn’t coming tonight, is she?”

“No, baby, she’s not. I’ve already bought it.”

“And it isn’t a development, is it?” I turn in his arms and look up to face him. “It’s…” Emotion rises. More emotion than I have space to store. It rises so high it has no choice but to leak out of my eyes. “It’s Annabel, isn’t it?”

Miller leans down, closing his eyes and parting his lips before they touch mine. He searches for my tongue and finds it, licking my wounds and making them better, like always.

“Yes, baby.” He strokes the side of my face and leans his forehead against mine. “We’re home.”

I look around, taking in the faded wallpaper and the cracked panes of glass, the hole in the floorboards and the musty smell. It changes before my eyes. I see new plumbing and wiring. I see discarded rot, but most of all, I see good things repaired. Old things taken care of, handled sensitively, and fully restored.

“It’s going to be beautiful,” I murmur. “My God, it’s going to be so beautiful.”

“D’you like it? ‘Cause you know if you don’t, we don’t have to keep it. We can keep looking if you want something else. I don’t mind. I want you to be happy.”

“No,” I say with force. “I love it. It’s perfect.” I let my hands roam his chest, smoothing his shirt and fixing his collar. “Just one thing.” I let my voice trail off and try my best not to smile. “I’m not sure if you”re aware, but I work for the Department of Education, and, and they aren’t known for paying well. I’m just a lowly government employee, and this is a dream house. It’s going to cost a fortune, and I-I…” I bat my lashes innocently. “I just don’t think I can afford to live in an area like this.”

His eyes spark, metal against metal, and he tilts his head back. “Aw, don’t worry, baby, we’ll work it out. I’m sure we can find something you have that I want. Something I’ll pay for.” He snaps at my jaw, scraping his teeth over my skin. “Something I’ll buy. Or rent.”

Heat quivers down my spine.

I love the fuck out of this game. It doesn’t matter how many times we play it, I love it more every time. I know that Miller will make me pay to live here. He’ll make me pay over and over. He’ll make me pay in every room of this house—on, or bent over every flat surface. He’ll make me pay more than once.

He’ll buy pieces of me, and I’ll happily let him.

He’ll buy them and keep them forever because that’s how buying things works.

He’ll smile and say, I bought it, so it’s mine.

I widen my eyes and raise a hand to my throat, clutching an invisible string of pearls. “I hope you don’t mean to suggest…”

“Yes, I do. That’s exactly what I mean. I mean it will cost you. It’ll cost you a lot. I’m going to take something from you, baby. Something I want. Something that’s mine. Something I wanted the first time I saw you.” He grinds his hard cock against mine. “Something I’ve wanted every day since.”

I slap his hands away from me, watching as the heat running through me slowly infects him.

He pulls me toward him, eyes warm and hard and soft. He tilts his head to the side and cups my face gently in his hands before leaning down.

“Rent,” he says, brushing his lips against mine, stealing a kiss so sweet and so chaste that my head spins and my mouth drops open for more, “paid in full.”