MARIGOLD
Avery followed me all the way to the shelter and even walked me inside. Once we got inside, he didn’t linger. Only long enough to hand over a check. A giant one at that. But in that small time, he made sure to let it be known that we’re engaged.
Now everyone is talking about him nonstop. Going on and on about how great and wonderful my new fiancé is. They won’t knock it off. I, too, might have been a bit flabbergasted when he’d handed over a check for half a million dollars and then told them there was more where that came from since I was going to be his wife.
Then he strolled out as though it were just another day. Once he was out of sight, the entire staff focused on the ring on my finger. I have to give it to the man, he’s good. A real smooth operator.
“Where did you two meet?” Dr. Amarie asks me.
“A greenhouse.” I decide to go with the truth. I mean, that is where we met.
“A greenhouse?” Of course she’s confused. I don’t have a house with a yard. Why the hell would I be in a greenhouse? I’m not going to have a garden. “Did you have to go for one of your cleaning jobs?”
“Yes.” I’m thankful I don’t have to lie. “It’s been a bit of a whirlwind.”
“It must be. I remember you saying last weekend that rich men were the worst kind of.”
I had said that after cleaning Mr. Hoover's house one day.
“They are.”
“But now you’re marrying one?”
“I’m going to take them down from the inside.”
Dr. Amarie cackles at what she thinks is a joke.
Is it a joke? Could I ever take down Avery? In his sleep maybe? I’d probably get distracted with his handsomeness and end up staring at him and forget that I’m supposed to be robbing him blind. Or he would wake up and give me one of those mind-blowing orgasms. That always sidetracks me.
Though, so far I’ve made out good. I bet I’ll get a pretty penny for this ring, and he donated money to the shelter already. If anything, I’m becoming a way better thief than I’ve ever been. Wait, am I a gold digger now?
“I’m going to check the water bowls,” I tell Dr. Amarie as she continues to laugh. I don’t want to answer any more questions. I just want to visit my furry little friends and forget about all the craziness of the last few days. It’s going to be hard since I have a giant sparkly reminder on my finger.
“I’m running to the bank,” she shouts as the door to the back closes behind me. I have no doubt Avery’s check is going to clear.
Somehow, the kittens do get me to forget about last night. The bad parts at least. My mind still drifts to Avery’s kisses and the sweet, firm way he was with me. I really have no idea what to make of this man. He’s clearly crazy, but then aren’t we all in our own ways?
I huff. I’m already making excuses for this man. Shouldn’t I be running? I could be out the door and into the fancy Land Rover and halfway across the state before he knows I’ve slipped out of here. I’d pawn the ring and then what? I guess I could live off the money I get from it for a while. But he’d find me. I don’t know how, but he would.
I’m not entirely sure who Avery is, but he’s a man with very interesting skills. You don’t learn to snap a neck one-handed at some self-defense class. Then be so cavalier about it. There had been no fear of what the outcome could be.
“Goldie.” Violet, one of the vet techs calls for me.
“I’m in block three,” I shout back. A second later, she appears in her blue scrubs.
“There’s a police officer out front asking for you.” My heart sinks, and nerves fill my stomach.
“For me?” I squeak.
“Yep.” Her brows pull together. “You okay?”
“Yes, fine. I’ll be right there,” I rush to say. Jeez. So much for playing it cool.
“All right. I’ll let him know.” When she turns to leave, I take a deep breath. Should I make a run for it? I didn’t kill Hoover, but I also didn’t report it. What if there were cameras that saw it all? Even what happened after? This is bad. Really bad.
I want Avery. That’s all I can think as I make my way to the front of the shelter. I don’t have my cell phone. It’s still in my glove box. I’m sure it’s dead at this point.
When I open the door, I see the cop standing there. And it’s not just any cop. Of course it’s my father. “Marigold,” he says when he sees me. “I need to speak with you.”