Page 99 of Arran's Obsession
I blew him a kiss then returned to pick out clothes for the day. Or evening, according to my phone which I found in my bag on the dresser, presumably Arran having ordered it fetched for me at some point. It was nearly dark again, and I was fully in my creature-of-the-night era.
I had multiple missed calls from my brother and a reminder popping up, followed by a text.
Jon at Deliverus: If you don’t come in tonight, I will have no choice but to let you go.
Shit. I had work in thirty minutes.
It was a crap shift—four hours to cover the evening rush only—a punishment for missing a week of work, despite my claim I’d been ill.
Riordan’s missed calls would have to wait. After tapping out a fast response to my boss, I dried my hair and brushed it into a high ponytail, then yanked on leather leggings with ridged knees like biker wear and a cropped top over a t-shirt bra. There was a nice jacket that would work for being on the road. Lara had good taste.
As I readied myself, I took in my surroundings in a way I hadn’t fully done when we’d arrived. Arran’s place was high-end, from the engineered oak floors to the heavy furniture and beautiful fixtures. The impromptu sex toys had all disappeared, thankfully, but the candles had guttered to wax puddles on the wooden chest of drawers. That was the only element out of place. The only personalisation to give an indication of who lived here.
Perhaps that was why Arran wanted my…presence everywhere.
When I was just about ready, he reappeared, stabbing his phone to end his call with a huff of annoyance. He eyed the light coat.
“I need to go out,” I informed him.
“Where?”
“Work. I start in thirty.”
He jerked his head back, his expression souring. “Why the fuck are you sticking with that crap delivery job?”
My shoulders rose. “It’s crap but it’s mine, and I need the money.”
“You get money from me.”
Oh, he didn’t go there. “Do I!”
“Yes, because you’re my woman. I don’t want you out there doing something hazardous for little reward when I can and will provide for you. You promised you wouldn’t do anything dangerous. Was that another lie?”
I glowered at him. “Something’s obviously pissed you off, but I’m not in the mood to indulge a temper tantrum.”
“Just stating the facts. You’re mine.”
“I’m not a possession.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Just because you say so?”
“Well, you never would.” He breathed evenly, hands on his hips, his expression that same infuriating neutral he’d worn on the video calls he’d made to his clients.
If I couldn’t read his body language, his tight muscles and panic rolling off him, I’d assume he’d want me to agree.
But something else was happening. I stopped my response, waiting on him.
“Do you want an out, Genevieve? Should I call someone else to step in? Maybe the woman whose place you took would be happy to be at my side and pretend she liked me. Tell me now if you want to go back to your old life and never see me again once the month is up.”
Natasha Reid was the woman in question, but aside from a stab of jealousy, she was far from the forefront of my mind.
Arran had got badly shaken up by my mention of work.
He’d moved on from the mistrust. He was invested, and it scared him. My heart cracked.
Crossing the room, I stepped into his space. “Is that what you want, someone other than me?”