That's when Lorna's face snaps back to reality from whatever deluded lust game she was in.
"I'm not her mother!" she snaps at me. "Her loser of a father brought her into the marriage. He was a widower. When he went off to join his poor wife in the afterlife, it was a tax credit to claim her as my dependent," Lorna explains to me.
There's a fucking ferocity to her that momentarily stuns me.
And is it me, or did you just hear a gasp from outside the door?
Holy fucking Christ, is that Becca?
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Does Becca not know about...
"Does Becca know?" I ask Lorna, flexing my abs to sit up a bit more.
Lorna shrugs. "I let her think whatever she wants," she says to me. "It usually helps me if she thinks of me as her real mother."
That's fucking it.
If there was ever any way that I had thought that this evil woman in her short skirt trying to rub herself on my body would get me to succumb—any iota in my brain that was even tempted by that body—it's gone now.
"Get the fuck off of me," I snarl at her and push myself off the chair I was sitting in.
I flex my muscles and stand up; my only thought is to get out of this house.
Lorna goes to move, but apparently she's not fast enough because by the time I'm standing she's still on me, and once I get off the chair, she's sliding, falling ungraciously in a heap on the floor.
"I'm never going to fucking touch you, woman," I spit at her, not just my mortal fucking enemy but the woman who on her own destroyed Becca's childhood. "I suggest you stop trying."
That's all I have to fucking say to her. I start walking out of the living room.
Her voice stops me for a moment. "Don't think this is over, Mason," she says to me, much more bitterly and spiteful than the purring she was doing a few moments ago. "Don't ever think you can get rid of me so easily."
I pause as I let her continue without turning back. "Your company is going to be mine if you don't do what I say," she hisses like a fucking witch. "And if you think you'll be able to stay away from me after that, you've got another thing coming."
Fuck her.
“I haven’t finished hunting you down, dear,” she says as I exit. “You will be mine. I swear it.”
I walk out the living room and through the foyer of the condo.
I know I should have stopped and seen after Becca, but I need to clear my fucking head.
A part of me is thinking of going back up once the elevator doors open and let me out into the building lobby, but I realize that my temples are still throbbing with anger.
No, I need to calm the fuck down first.
I mean, there's a lot of things women can do. They can be sweet, innocent, and naive. Hell, they can be sexy if they want to and I won't judge. They can even be slutty, and sometimes the sluttier the fucking better.
But there's a fucking line between wanting to have sex because you enjoy the human contact and appreciate the fucking beauty in people, and wanting to have sex because you're a selfish leech that's looking to satisfy your own dark fucking desires for power and control.
No, there's nothing fucking sexual about Lorna. She's more a nympho than a slut.
That's the realization I have as I get into the cab. I tell the cabbie to take me to midtown to the Kane Price offices.
There's one thing I need to do before I get home and try finding Becca.
I head into my office and pick up the phone.