Page 28 of King of Hollywood

“Murder is preferable,” I deadpanned. Winnie laughed, oblivious to just how serious I actually was. “I’ll use a machete.”

“You do that.”

“I will.” I wouldn’t. It wasn’t safe. But…that didn’t mean I didn’t want to. I wanted to hack him up into itty bitty lipless bits—so tiny he could never kiss anyone ever again.

“MarMar,” Winnie’s voice was annoyingly gentle again. Like I was a child and she was trying to soothe me. “You do know that not everyone jumps into a serious relationship, right? Like…before they even go on a date? There’s a process. And that process isn’t always monogamous at first.”

“I know,” I scoffed.

“Do you?” Winnie kept talking. Because she was a flip-flop-wearing asshole. “Because you’re really upset about this, honey. And I know that you really like Felix—and I’m happy for you. God knows, I never expected you of all people to like someone this much—”

“—Hey.”

“But you can’t expect him to follow rules when you haven’t even told him what they are.” I hated that she was right. “So talk to him about it? Yeah. Ask him what’s up.”

“God, you piss me off.” I was not asking Felix anything. That would be humiliating. And honestly? I didn’t want to fucking know.

“Love you too.” Winnie blew me a kiss, then promptly hung up.

If I’d known exactly what Felix was up to, perhaps I would’ve been less upset. Jury’s out on that one. Luckily for me, it didn’t take long to figure out why the stranger had stayed so late. Because by the time the clock struck midnight I received an unexpected visitor.

Relief, unlike anything I’d ever known flooded through me the second I spotted Felix’s familiar floppy hat through the peephole in my door.

I hadn’t even seen Felix cross the street, which was…odd, considering the fact that I’d been glaring at his house for several hours now. Either he was faster than he looked—or he could teleport.

Yanking the door open, I did my best to act casual—and not like I’d been planning murder for the last three hours.

Act normal, act normal, act normal.

“Good evening.” Boom. Done. Perfect execution. Yay me.

“I did it again,” Felix said by way of greeting, his voice rough. There were new tear streaks streaming down his cheeks.

I hated him a little then, because the sight of his tears didn’t make me balk like they should have—instead, I wanted to bundle him up in my arms again, and hiss at anyone that approached.

Felix came across as a proud man. Old school. The kind of man who rarely cried—and yet here he was, for a second time showing me the underside of his belly. The parts that were squishy and soft, and easily broken.

It was difficult for me to find sympathy for a person who was all soft sides—as I’d been raised on hard edges. But Felix wasn’t all fluff and no substance. In fact, I got the feeling that when he was with anyone else—he acted quite different.

I knew walls intimately, as I had dozens of my own.

And yet…here Felix was with his down, looking to me—of all people—for guidance.

Felix’s eyes were visibly lighter in color than they’d been the last time I’d seen him. Blood red. Was it a medical condition? I’d have to Google that later. Or perhaps he was wearing colored contacts for his date. The thought made me grit my teeth.

“You did what again?” I asked, less charitably.

Felix licked his lips, his gaze flicking guiltily over his shoulder toward his home where the stranger’s car was still parked. “I did…it. Marshall.”

He was clearly hoping I’d guess what kind of nonsense he was talking about without actually saying it aloud. I was not a mind reader, but I tried to guess anyway.

He’d done what?

Had sex?

“I’ll kill him.” Visions of slamming a hammer into the asshole’s head assaulted my senses. For a brief, terrifying moment I saw red. “I’ll kill him—I swear to God.”

“You can’t—” Felix stared up at me, lashes spiky and wet. God, he was delicious. It was ridiculous. He pissed me off. So much. So needy—like an animal in pain that needed putting down.