Provoke

“Cassandra. It’s Mace.” Then I remembered it was three in the morning. Shit. “Fuck, sorry it’s late,” I apologized, hitting my head against the wall beside me.

“It’s okay.” She yawned.

“Are you free Thursday night?”

“For you? I’m always free. Is this . . ?”

“Yes. The same as last time. I’ll pay extra again.” I paused. “Are you sure you’re okay with it? I mean, I know it’s kinda fucked up . . .”

“That was some pretty kinky shit, but believe me, you’re one of the nicer guys.” She chuckled, her voice raspy. “Besides, you tip well.” She let out a roaring laugh, so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. God, this chick smoked so much weed that although she was only in her twenties, she sounded more like fifty. At least she looked her age. That was all that mattered.

“Thanks, I guess.” I winced. “I’ll see you at seven.”

Chapter Six

Leeta

Little Marcus meowed wildly at my feet as I poured his biscuits into a bowl. It was official: I was in love with two boys. My tough, rough guy and my little, furry softy. I’ll let you figure out who is who.

“Here you go,” I said, placing the bowl on the floor. He began to purr, licking up mouthfuls of kibble like he’d never been fed before. I laughed. “Someone’s a greedy guts.” I stroked his fur and then stood up. I had so much work to do that day it wasn’t funny.

After the fastest shower in the world—twenty seconds—I put in a load of laundry and then settled down at my laptop. I turned it on and waited. Nothing happened. No way. I’d just charged the battery the day before. Sighing, I stood up and went in search of the charger, which I had a feeling was still in the bedroom.

Yep, there we are. I yanked it out of the wall and waltzed back into the living room. After plugging it in, I sat down. And…nothing.

What the hell is going on? Stupid fucking computer.

I slammed the laptop shut and pushed it away from me, frustrated.

Fuck!

I had an opening argument the next morning and I needed to get this finished. But now my piece-of-shit laptop had decided to be temperamental, and I had no idea what I was going to do.

I reached for my phone and called Mace. No answer. It was three o’clock; he was probably at work. I weighed up my options. The local library was closed of a Wednesday afternoon, so that was out. I could go into work and risk being stuck there half the night, but then I’d have to explain why I had called in sick today.

Somehow I didn’t think turning up for the last hour was going to look good to my bosses.

So I could sit here and panic . . . or I could go to Mace’s.

I stared at my keys, and in particular, the key to his house. Surely the fact that he had given me a key meant I could let myself in? Especially in an emergency. And it didn’t get much more urgent than this.

I grabbed my keys and my files and rushed out the door. I didn’t want to think too hard about what relationship lines I was about to cross. We had been dating for a while now, but we hadn’t really had the ‘what’s mine is yours’ talk. This felt creepy. Like I was invading his privacy. You’re about to hack into his computer, Leeta. It should feel creepy.

What I needed to do was stop overanalysing. He would want me to get this finished.

#

I pulled into his driveway and let myself in through the garage.

So this was how he lived when I wasn’t around. I glanced around the living room, a smirk on my face. What a mess. Fast food wrappers were tossed everywhere, piles of clothes sat all over the furniture. I giggled. At least I know he makes an effort when he’s aware I’m coming over.

I can’t handle this. The neat freak inside of me was going mental. I grabbed a basket from the laundry and filled it with dirty towels and clothes. Carrying it to the washing machine, I dumped it all in, along with some powder, and pressed on.

Next, I tackled the kitchen, loading the dishwasher, and cleaning out his disgusting fridge. How can anyone live like this?

Finally, I was done. Well, as done as I was going to be. I wasn’t here to be his freaking maid. I had work to do. Work that if I didn’t finish could possibly end up getting me fired. I walked over to his laptop and opened it up.

Fuck. Password.