It was the first time I’d physically—unprofessionally touched a client.
But it was time Brat got some discipline.
Better late than never.
Iwas going to kill a man. Violently.
I didn’t know how yet. After all, this guy—what was his name, anyway? Bastard never introduced himself—was at least six foot three, if not taller. And buff. Not in the way Wes Morgan was buff, with enough visible veins to look like a roadmap. Nameless Asshole had a toned body without looking like he lived at the gym. He appeared almost indecently masculine. Like those ultra-athletes who survived in the woods for years at a time.
Complete with jade-hued eyes, soot-colored hair, sculpted cheekbones…okay, since when do you notice men? Specifically, men who barge into your life,while you’re naked?
Anyway, without getting into minutiae, the jerk deserved to die.
Luckily, I still had my laptop in my room. He could take my phone, but he could never take my fight.
My first move was to try to call my parents through a questionable app I downloaded, and in the process, probably installed fifteen viruses on my computer.
I got my mother’s voicemail—twice—while Dad was on another call.
The coward.My father was great about sending me money and gifts, and horrible at being available for me physically or emotionally. He called me frequently, but conversation was always so boring, so stilted, I’d wish he hadn’t even tried.
My mother was a different story. She openly resented me. According to her,Iwasn’t making an effort. She criticized me often, but through the harsh words, I could always pick up the undertone of a wounded woman. It brought me sick pleasure. Knowing she hated our relationship as much as I did.
Leaving a voicemail was out of the question. They didn’t listen to those. So I resorted to calling their respective secretaries and leaving messages with them, like a cold caller trying to offer a solar panel installation deal.
It made my blood bubble to think Nameless Asshole, who was currently occupying my dining room, had access to my dad and could call him at any time, while I had to go through his administrative team.
“Hi, Daphne, it’s Hallie. Can you please do me a favor and ask Mom to call me back? It’s important. Yes. Very important. No. It’s not about Chanel raising their prices and my needing to stock up on bags. I actually find it super triggering to suggest that I buy new products. It is so not eco-friendly. Plus, there are steals at secondhand stores. Steals, I tell you.”
“Heyyy, Tyrese How are you? How’s your wife? Oh, really? Two years ago? I’m so sorry. Anywho, is Dad around? Any chance I could leave a message for him? Yeah. Tell him it’s urgent. Super urgent. What? No, I didn’t accidentally make the ATM machine swallow my credit card! That you would even suggest that…no wonder Beverly left you.”
Once I was done thoroughly humiliating myself with my parents’ staff, I paced my room. I considered calling Hera, then quickly thought better of it. First of all, she was probably not going to answer. She worked twenty-six hour shifts at the hospital. Also, I was her least favorite person in the world. And in the unlikely event that shedidanswer, she’d spend the duration of the call telling me how irresponsible I was, and how I deserved an abusive, cold bodyguard to straighten me up. Hera had an uncanny gift for making me feel like shit. So even though I knew she could get Mom and Dad on the phone in a second, I didn’t want to call her.
Freezing in my spot, an actual good idea assaulted my brain.
Keller.
Keller would know what to do in this situation. He’d driven countless nannies away when he was a kid. After his mother passed away from an overdose when he was nine, his dad took sole custody of him. Every time his father would put someone in charge of him, Keller found a way to either get the nanny fired or to run away screaming. He was a master at making people quit.
Sure, I’d been kind of at odds with my best friend since he’d abandoned me to mingle with Perry Cowen. I hadn’t taken any of his calls after the nip-slip debacle.
No matter. It was time to suck it up and play nice.
I FaceTimed Keller. He picked up immediately, in the middle of a jog, the camera bouncing between his beautiful face and the cloudless blue skies.
“Finally descended from the tree you climbed, I see,” he greeted me warmly.
“Only because the bough’s about to break into a rocky river,” I murmured, remembering the big, surly predator occupying my dining room downstairs.
“Down will come baby. Cradle and all. Am I still in the doghouse?” He rounded the corner of his street.
“That depends on whether you can help me or not.”
“Ultimatums and emotional blackmail. You speak my love language.” He sighed. “Let’s hear it.”
I took a deep breath, then told him about my last few hours. How I spent the morning innocently working on my tan. How Nameless Asshole barged into my house, stole my phone and my car keys, and canceled my credit cards. How he sent Dennis—ourDennis—on paid leave, and scared away the police officers (I may have tweaked some details to fit the overall narrative).
I explained that my parents were not answering me, probably scared of my reaction, and I simply couldn’t live with this heathen of a man for six months. Or six days.Oreven six seconds.