Page 23 of Vow of Revenge
Within a few moments, I was ringing the bell at her penthouse apartment and drumming my nails on the plaster framing a plain white door.
It flew open and the other girl from last night gave me the once over with an over analysing sweep. “You’re Kaleb, right?” She frowned, clearly unsure why I was here. “Is something wrong?” Her lips pouted and her thick brows scrunched.
I cleared my throat. “Is she here?” I didn’t come all this way for pleasantries.
“Freya?”
“The very one.”
Her head cocked with annoying intrigue. “Eh, yeah she’s in her room. As usual. What do you want with her?” The tight fold of her forearms across her chest indicated she was protective. A charming quality, but it was just dragging this bullshit out and my patience was already fraying.
“I need to speak with her about last night.”
“Why? She left early… didn’t she?”
Leaving my hand on the doorframe, I lowered my head and cracked a sly amiable smile. “She came back with me, to my place. I need to ask her something.”
Syrah’s hands cupped her cheeks like she was about to scream… with joy. “Are you shitting me right now? I thought she came home alone?” She backed up and waved her arm, giving me access with a welcoming wave. It was as easy as that to get into Freya’s apartment. “Tell me what happened.”
The hall mirrored the rest of the building, bare and unimaginative, like an office block rather than a home.
“I’m sure she’ll fill in the blanks for you later, right now, I have to talk to her and be on my way,” I replied bluntly.
“Well it’s obvious by the smile on your face that something happened between the two of you. When I got home this morning, she was fast asleep. Her clothes stink of cigarette smoke?” She looked back at me. “I didn’t realise you were a smoker.”
“I’m not,” I muttered.
Syrah led me up the staircase and carried on with the interrogation. “So why did her clothes smell like she’d rolled in ash?” she persisted.
So many fucking questions. “Why don’t you ask her that.”
“Because I’m asking you!” she said, pointing her finger at my chest. “Here we are. This is her room.” Lightly tapping, she pushed the door handle and cracked the door open a little. “Freebie you’ve got male!” She giggled like a three-year-old, minus the obnoxious pigtails. “Get it? M.A.L.E.” She spelled it out.
I forced a half-hearted smile, being as polite as possible. She was a Beaumont after all, and it didn’t matter that I fucked her sister hard and possibly impregnated her. “Do you always laugh at your own jokes?” I asked out of courtesy, but the answer was of no interest to me.
She shunted the door wider, shoving back strewn clothes to make a walkway. “Freebie, are you awake?”
Raising a brow, I asked, “Freebie?”
Syrah hesitated before entering, tilting her head to the side like a cute kitten. “Yeah, when I got a sister, I got a best friend for free. I’ve called her that for years.”
There was no retort for that nonsense.
The room was shrouded in darkness, lit only by a ray of sun straining to burst out from the side of the blinds. A queen size bed at the far wall was clearly occupied with a cotton sheet draping a still body. Pillars of stacked magazines lined the walls beside a French boudoir desk with a laptop, scattered sticky notes, and a large container crammed with pens and pencils on top.
“Hey!” Syrah nudged the sleeping form.
A hand slid out from under the sheet, waving with minimal effort. “Go away. Talk later.”
“But you have a visitor. Ka…”
Freya interrupted her mid-sentence, right before Syrah could say my name.
“I’m so fucked, Syrah. Tell whoever it is to bugger off. I’ll call them later.”
“It’s, Kaleb. He’s here.”
“That’s not even funny.”
