Breaking Him (Love is War #1)(18)

Damn dogs, with their unconditional love and unfalteringly bad breath. Who could deal with either of those things?

I knew I should have just gotten a cat, but it seemed wrong somehow, to get a frivolous thing like a second pet when we all traveled as much as we did. Our neighbor took in Amos when we were out of town, but we could hardly ask him to take in still another pet part-time.

Also, some part of me had a really big problem with openly seeking out something that might bring me joy. Like, with all the things I’d done that were actually sins, looking for a bit of happiness in my life was the real transgression.





CHAPTER


NINE





“Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world.”

~Marilyn Monroe





For all intents and purposes, I had the apartment to myself for the majority of the day.

It was for the best. I had a lot of baking and drinking to do before I was even close to fit for company.

I was frosting my fifth batch of cupcakes (these red velvet) when the doorbell rang.

My eyes narrowed, and my first instinct was to ignore it. I just had a bad feeling. Nothing I could put into words, just a need to avoid that could be for any number of reasons, not the least of which that I was working on getting stupid, sloppy drunk, and the condition was eluding me.

Nope, I decided. Not answering.

The doorbell rang again, and this time a sleepy Demi came out of her room, gave me a good morning/afternoon wave, and went to open it herself before I could stop her.

I went back to frosting and didn’t look up again until she plopped a large red box on the kitchen counter scant inches from my growing horde of cupcakes. I’d made three flavors—German chocolate, vanilla cream, and red velvet.

“Oh my God,” she said slowly, her big blue eyes wide. “What are all these cupcakes for?”

I looked at her. She was a gorgeous little thing with big, bright blue eyes, masses of dark hair, pale skin, and a rosebud mouth. She was petite but curvy in all the right places. She basically looked and was the Hollywood version of Snow White. “You. Help yourself.”

“You bitch!” she shot back, making me smile for the first time all day. Her calling me a bitch to my face was 100% my influence on her, and I loved it. “You know I have an audition in two days! And red velvet is my absolute favorite!”

I had known that. The whole point of my baking was never to make something for myself. I despised cupcakes. I had the opposite of a sweet tooth. I had a bitter one.

I nodded at the red box. “What’s that?”

“Something for you. Some sort of special delivery from a guy in a suit.”

I froze, my insides coiling up tight. “Not . . . Dante, right?”

“No, not him. I’d have recognized him. It was some guy I’ve never seen before, but he insisted I give the box directly to you and said it should be opened immediately.”

I felt no better. This reeked of Dante, even it that hadn’t been him at the door, though I was still thanking God for that.

“That’s odd,” I noted, my tone deceptively casual.

“The whole thing was bizarre,” she agreed.

I finished frosting the cupcakes, taking my time, smiling when Demi gave in and started eating one, then moaned and raved about how divine it was, but all the while, my mind was on the damned package.

“Is there a return address on that thing?” I finally asked her, avoiding it myself, like that would somehow help.

“Nope. There’s nothing. I checked. No postage. That guy just brought it here. You got a new stalker or something?”

My mouth twisted. “Not a new one.”

“Are you going to open it or you want me to?”

I almost told her to do it, but that felt too cowardly, and realizing that I wanted to be a coward was what finally spurred me into action. I had many, many bad qualities, but I’d be damned before I’d let cowardice become one of them.

With a curse, I reached for the box, tearing it open.

Inside were red shoes in exactly the same style as the ones I’d been wearing yesterday.

But these were Louboutins.

I read the note tucked in beside the shoes before I could think better of it, and immediately wished I hadn’t.





Scarlett,

I know you have a weakness for expensive shoe porn.

And you know I love to exploit your weaknesses.

Enjoy.

Thanks for everything,

D, aka the love of your life

P.S. We still need to talk.





I nearly threw the shoes out of the closest window. I had them free of the box, had moved from the kitchen and across the living room, opened a window, but as I stared at them I just couldn’t do it.

They were so gorgeous. How could I throw away something so perfect?

Shoe porn, indeed.

I hated that I loved it. The note. The shoes. Everything about it tailored perfectly to appeal to my senses and tear out pieces of me in precisely equal measures.

We were over, had been for years, but it didn’t matter. If he had his way, he’d keep me tied to him forever. He was cruel like that.

The shoes, and particularly the note, was an attack disguised as a white flag, and it worked, did exactly what he intended—got to me. Enraged and weakened me both.