Page 46 of His Kingdom

“Yes, you are,” he insists.

“No, I’m not.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m not a charity case.”

“No, you’re my girlfriend and I’m not going to have mygirlfriendwork for some other guy,” he says, putting extra emphasis on the title.

“Yeah, I’m also not a whore. You’re not paying for me,” I tell him.

“What the fuck? How did we go from you’re my girlfriend to you thinking you’re my whore?” Louie shakes his head.

“You’re trying to pay me. That suggests you’re paying me to be your girlfriend. That’s the very definition of a whore.”

“No, a whore is someone you pay for sex. I want a lot more than just sex from you, Charlotte. I want everything.”

He wants everything?That’s a problem, considering I’m not sure I have anything left to give anymore. “What if I don’t have anything to give you?” I ask aloud.

Louie smiles at me. “Charlotte, you have already given me more than you’ll know.” His lips press into mine. Soft, gentle.

Damn him and those lips. This man is like a drug. When he’s touching me, it’s hard to think straight. I know I’m going to have more questions later.

“Let’s go to bed. It’s late,” Louie whispers against my mouth.

“Okay.” I sigh. I can’t bring myself to walk away, even though my head is telling me I should.

ChapterTwenty-Three

I’m back there. In that alleyway. Huddled between two dumpsters. It’s cold, dark, and my stomach is growling. I don’t know how long it’s been. She’s going to come back soon. She said she’d come back soon. Then there’s a noise—no, it’s not a noise. It’s a whimper.

I look next to me.I’m not alone. “Louie, you said I wouldn’t get hurt.”

“Charlotte, what are you doing here?” I whisper. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’m here because you’re here. I’m hungry, Louie. When can we leave?” she asks me.

“What?” I look around. We’re no longer in the alleyway. And I’m not a child waiting for his mother. We’re in a casino, crouched down behind a slot machine. “What’s happening?” I ask no one in particular.

“I’m scared, Louie,” Charlotte says. “I’m hungry and cold and scared.”

* * *

I wake with a start. My body jolts up in bed. The usual feeling of hunger hits me. Charlotte lies beside me. Asleep. She has to be hungry too. Right? She was there, in the dream. That hasn’t ever happened before. No one has seeped into the nightmare before.

What the fuck does it mean that Charlotte was there?

Climbing out of bed, I contemplate waking her up. She has to be hungry. I should wake her up and make her eat something. Common sense tells me it was just a dream and not real. That she’s fine. She’s safe. She’s not hungry, cold, or scared.

I walk into the kitchen, open the fridge, and pull out one of the ready-made meals. Peeling the plastic off the top and popping the tray into the microwave. My stomach growls, and my fists clench at my sides. I can’t stand being hungry. I should be used to it by now. It’s not uncommon for me to wake up from one of those dreams starving.

The microwave pings. I grab the tray and sit it on the counter. Before dropping onto one of the stools and digging into the food. I eat fast. I always do when no one is watching. When no one is here to judge. No one knows that, out of all the situations I’ve encountered in life, I’ve never been more scared than I was in that alleyway, waiting for a mother who wasn’t ever coming back.

The sound of footsteps behind me has my spine straightening. “Louie, it’s four in the morning,” Charlotte says, her voice groggy from sleep.

I stop eating—although it’s the last thing I want to do—and turn to face her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I rolled over and the bed was empty. That’s what woke me up,” she says, sitting down next to me.

“You’re hungry. Let me get you something to eat.” I go to stand, and Charlotte grabs hold of my arm. Her hand is freezing.

“I’m not hungry,” she says.

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