Page 14 of A Taste For Trouble
“I told you it was like going to Siberia,” he replied, with a shrug.
“It’s way worse than Siberia, Trevor. It’s so bleak. And why is there no colour anywhere?”
“Give your demon cat some time,” said Trevor, with a snicker. “He’ll decorate the whole place in blood red.”
“I’m not going to be here that long,” I replied, with another unhappy glance around the room. “That bed looks like it’ll kick me off if I dare lie on it.”
“Pfft! It’s just unlived in, is all. You’re the first person to use this room.”
“Come on! I’m sure Dominic has had other guests stay over at his place,” I scoffed.
“Not in this room. His guests stay in one of the two guest apartments on the floor below this one, while his dates…well…” he broke off awkwardly, and I turned away to stare out of the window because the thought of Dominic sleeping with other women made me want to sic Sweetpea on this pristine penthouse and watch him reduce it to rubble.
“What about his friends?”
“What friends?” quipped Trevor. “He doesn’t let anyone get close enough to be a friend. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him kick back and chill with anyone. But you’ve known him for longer than I have.”
“I don’t know him,” I corrected. “Not really.”
“And yet, he came running to stop you from marrying Joe because he knew that moron could never make you happy. You might not know him well, Rose, but he knows you. Inside and out,” said Trevor thoughtfully.
Did he, I wondered. Did he know how I felt about him? Was that why he always kept me at a distance?
“How soon can I go back home?” I asked eventually.
“You’ve just arrived, Rosie,” scolded Trevor. “Here, let’s unpack your bag…ohmigod! Why do you have more notebooks than clothes in here?”
“Whaaat? I’m outlining a new book,” I said defensively. “You know I need to scribble all my ideas in a notebook before I actually start writing.”
He pulled out my tiered, floral skirt and matching mauve cardigan, and stared at them in disgust.
“Are you seriously trying to compete with Cece Blair wearing this?”
I snatched them back and stuffed them back in the bag before I put it away on a shelf in the large empty closet.
“I’m not competing with anyone. What is wrong with you, Trevor?” I cried. “This is temporary! I haven’t moved in with Dom. I’m here for one night or two, tops.”
“Rose, if two people were ever meant to be together, it’s you and the boss,” said Trevor softly. “If only you could see yourselves the way I do.”
“You can’t force desire where none exists, Trev,” I said sadly. “Dom has always treated me like the sister he never wanted, and nothing is ever going to change that. Now, help me get this little gremlin out of his carrier.”
We dangled some treats at the open top of the carrier until Sweetpea deigned to step out and sniff at our offerings. Trevor backed away when Sweetpea lunged at him, and I rolled my eyes.
“He’s just messing with you, Trev. Sweetie, no more treats for you if you’re not nicer to Uncle Trevor. Now, don’t make me get out the spray bottle,” I warned, and Sweetpea flashed a fang at me before he settled down to be brushed.
I turned to Trevor, who had finally stopped hugging the wall and ventured closer.
“He’s not used to being stuck inside a room all day, and it might stress him out. Do you think I can take him around the apartment on a leash?”
“Maybe manacles would be more his thing,” suggested Trevor, waggling his eyebrows at my cat. He took a hasty step back when Sweetpea growled at him. “Why does he hate men so much? He lets Mara pet him all the time.”
“The vet thinks he was traumatised by a male when he was an outdoor cat. Or maybe he just doesn’t trust your gender,” I replied, as I brushed Sweetpea’s thick fur gently.
“Eh, I don’t blame him,” said Trevor, with a shrug. “I don’t trust my gender either.”
“What’s wrong with him, Trev?” I asked softly.
“Umm, we just diagnosed it as a deep mistrust of the male gender,” he pointed out, shooting me a queer look.
