“Have you fucked someone since me? Do I need to get an STD check?”
I shook my head. “No. I haven’t. Just you. I haven’t even looked at another woman.”
She studied me. “Are you going to develop the spa?”
I took a deep breath. She was back to her intense best. I headed to the bathroom. “I couldn’t wiggle out of the contract, I’m afraid.”
Mirabel’s face scrunched in dismay. “But you promised.”
“I tried.” I held out my hands.
She placed her hands on her hips. “It’s going to ruin that area. The Newmans will be gutted.”
“I’ve offered them work at the spa.”
She ran her hands through her tousled hair. Her eyes were wild and back to the woman with a cause, who loved to remind me that I was morally bankrupt. “Are you kidding? They’re farmers.”
Mirabel grabbed her bag and her guitar. “You know what? I think I’ll catch the tube. This wasn’t a good idea. The Newmans are like family. I thought you’d at least leave their farm.”
I combed my hair with my fingers. “Let me drive you.”
My phone rang, and seeing it was Declan, I picked it up. “Hey, I’m on my way to Merivale.”
“We’ve got to talk about Dad’s murder.”
I released a tight breath.Fun and games ahead.
Mirabel pressed the elevator button.
“I’ll see you soon. Got to run.” I ended the call. “Hey, please let me drive you home at least.”
“No. This was a bad idea. You’re a bad idea.” And just like that she jumped into the elevator and was gone.
I stood there gobsmacked.Fuck.
Was it that she wouldn’t speak to me again? Fuck me again? Or simply that she saw me as evil for kicking out a family who’d been on the land for a decade?
All of that.
Chapter 7
Mirabel
Ifoundmycousinin the kitchen, frying an omelette. The smell of eggs filled the room, and despite my low mood, hunger still rumbled in my stomach.
Unlike most of the population, the edgier I got, the hungrier I became.
“Hello, you,” she said, looking up from the fry pan.
I went to the fridge and grabbed the carton of juice. “Do you want some?” I poured orange juice into a glass.
She shook her head.
“Have you eaten?” she asked, turning off the stove.
“I had some toast for breakfast. Don’t worry about me.”
“There’s plenty. I made enough.”