Page 72 of Pulled By the Tail
“Apologize,” Quil said, voice barely louder than a whisper.
“I won’t,” Fiona said.
“Apologize! Your behavior shames me. Georgia is family and we treat family better than that.”
Georgia felt the brush of Talen’s tail against her leg, offering comfort. Whatever ugly things Fiona said about her, she knew his heart.
“She’s not family,” Fiona said, voice rising in pitch. “She’s just the help that got knocked up. You should be taking my side, not hers.” She fluttered her lashes but Quil sneered, finally seeing her for the pile of human garbage she was.
That was definitely the hormones talking.
“If you won’t defend me, I’m not going to stick around and be spoken to in such an undignified manner,” Fiona announced, moments before flouncing out of the room.
Georgia felt the burn of three sets of eyes on her. “I think I’ll head to bed too.”
“No one thinks that. You’re as much a part of this family as I am,” Charl said, the most he had spoken all evening.
“Thank you.” Tomorrow, Georgia would pay the price for her sharp tongue, but she intended to savor this moment.
Talen
By morning,Fiona was gone, along with the cash box from the office, assorted items that could be resold easily, and the jeweled music box.
“All our money?” Quil raked a hand through his hair.
“All your money. And the household account. She did not have access to my personal accounts,” Talen said. Fiona took quite a lot of money, but they had a cushion. A tiny cushion.
A call to the bank would freeze any additional withdrawals, but the household account had already been emptied.
He paced the length of the library, passing by the empty display case. Shattered glass from the case littered the floor, crunching underfoot. He didn’t care about the money—well, he did in the vague way that he did not want to lose the house and be a pauper—but his focus was the missing music box.
“This is my fault,” Quil said.
Talen did not have to affirm that statement. It was obviously his fault. He knew nothing about that female before he brought her into their home. He gave her access to their money with no more reference than a pretty face and a warm cunt.
Fiona played them. Not even skillfully. Every bit of doubt she cast at Georgia, every accusation, was projected from her own schemes. She had literally been telling them what she planned to do, and they ignored her because she was vain and shallow.
They would have to sell the house, if they could sell it at all. Who would be so foolish enough to purchase a money pit and toss another fortune into that same pit?
Talen glared daggers at his brother.
Who besides Quil?
“Your damn cock got us into this mess,” Talen growled.
“My cock brought you your mate and your kit, so you’re welcome.”
Quil stepped right up to Talen, nose nearly touching nose. Their ears flattened and they snarled. Talen’s claws itched, wanting to be unsheathed. No, correction, wanting to be covered in the hot, sticky gore of Quil’s blood.
Patience. Forgiveness. Kindness.
The virtues offered him little comfort.
“You are impossible,” he said, shoving Quil back a step. “You never accept blame and you never apologize.”
“And what would you have me do, brother? Cover myself in ash? Parade through town for all to see my shame?”
“Take ownership of your shit! Stop expecting me to fix everything.”
