Don’t mess with the dog, bitch.
He approaches her again and she kicks him. Something snaps inside me.
Fury is running through my veins, and before I know it, I’m standing at the office door.
“What are you doing?” I snap.
She’s now going through the filing cabinet. She looks up and falters.
“Who are you?” she asks,
I’m your worst fucking nightmare.
“Wait.” She frowns, trying to work out where she knows me from.
“I’m the cleaner. Get out.”
She narrows her eyes, not believing me for a moment.
Shit, I don’t actually want her to get out. I need to keep her here until the police turn up.
“I asked you what you were doing,” I growl.
“Who are you?” She sneers.
I cross my arms over my chest. “It doesn’t matter who I am. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I came to visit my dog.” She pushes something behind her back.
“Liar.”
Uneasiness falls over me. What does she have in her hand? Is it a letter opener?
She wouldn’t…
Is she dangerous?
Shit.
“What’s behind your back?” I demand to know.
“Nothing.”
The sound of sirens roaring up the street takes over, and as I look toward the window to see the police, she makes a run for it. I chase her at full speed, out of the office and up the hall. As we run into the kitchen, my toe catches on the rug and I fly headfirst into the granite countertop.
Searing pain tears through my skull. My vision blurs, and I fall to the floor. I hear the front door bust open in the distance.
Muffled voices.
Panic.
Pain.
Darkness.
Sebastian
The echo of the club connecting with the ball can be heard as it echoes around us.
Julian raises his eyebrow, smirking, happy with his shot.
“Fuck you,” I mutter in disgust.
I go through the clubs in my golf bag, sizing up the distance I have to hit the ball to. Hmm, which one?
I decide on the nine iron, I take it out and clean the head.
Spencer pulls his towel out to do the same, and he winces. He holds the hand towel to his nose and pulls it away in disgust. “Fuck, this stinks like shit.”
I take a ball out and walk to the tee off.
Spencer smells his hand towel again. “Oh, fuck me. It smells like a sweaty whore bag.”
I position myself to hit the ball.
Behind me, I hear Spencer inhale it once more. “No, sweaty ball sack. Smell this, Masters.” He holds his towel out toward Julian. “Does this smell like sweaty ball sack or sweaty whore bag?”
“How would I fucking know?” Julian asks dryly. “I’ve never smelt either of those things.”
Spencer chuckles, clearly amused.
“Shut up,” I mutter as I line my club up. I pull it back over my shoulder, and just as I’m about to take a swing…
“It stinks real bad,” Spencer says, interrupting my concentration.
I hit the ball, and it goes careering off to the side.
“Fucking hell, Spencer!” I snap. “Shut the fuck up. I’m taking off my shot because of interference.”
He holds his hand towel toward me. “If you would just smell this thing, you would know what I’m saying.”
I snatch it off him and stuff it in the garbage bin as I walk past it.
“Good riddance.” Spencer huffs to the bin behind me.
We walk off toward my ball. “So, April has decided that we aren’t having sex anymore,” I say.
The two boys screw up their faces. “Why?”
I shrug. “I don’t fucking know. Something about intimacy or some bullshit.”
“What has no sex got to do with intimacy?” Masters asks.
“You tell me. Apparently, her therapist has been telling her to do this for years, but she hasn’t wanted to do this with anyone else before me.”
The boys’ eyes meet mine.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Basically, I’m the only one she can stop having sex with. The old boyfriends still got it.” I exhale heavily. “And get this… she even made a bet on it. If I give in and have sex with her, she wants to fuck my ass with a strap on dildo.”
Julian’s face falls in horror while Spencer throws his head back and laughs hard. “Fuck me, Seb. For someone with such an innocent name, she sure is a fucking deviant.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, rest assured it isn’t happening.”
“What isn’t?”
“All of the above. No fucking of her or any fucking of me.” We get to my ball, and I drag it out from the tree. We hear a phone ringing somewhere.
“Whose phone is that?” Masters asks.
“Not mine,” I reply. “I accidently left mine in the car.”
A ding sounds. Someone has a text message.
Spencer digs his out of his golf bag and reads the text. “Oh, get fucked.” He drags his hand down his face. “Not that. Anything but fucking that.”
“What?”
“Charlotte wants to go to Edward’s for dinner.”
Masters and I chuckle. Spencer’s brother-in-law is the bane of his existence.
“Happy wife, happy life,” Masters replies casually. “It could be worse. She could want to fuck you with a dildo.”
They both burst out laughing, and I roll my eyes… again.
Fuckers.
“You ride that thick fake cock, big boy.” Spencer winks at me.
Masters gyrates his hips and pretends to slap something.
I exhale heavily as I take my next shot. “I don’t know why I tell you losers anything.”
“Because you need us to take you to the hospital when she breaks you in.”
They laugh again.
I slam my club back into my golf bag and storm off in the direction of my ball. “I need new friends.”
Four hours later, I get into my car to find my phone where I left it, on charge.
I pick it up.
7 Missed Calls: April
That’s weird. She never calls me. I dial her number.
“You’ve reached April Bennet. I’m sorry I can’t get to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Have a nice day.”
“Hi, babe. I’m on my way home now,” I leave on her voicemail.
An hour later, I pull into my street to see two police cars parked in my driveway. The front door to the house is open, and I can see people moving around inside. “What in the world…?”