Cruel Money (Cruel 1)

“But,” he continued when I didn’t respond immediately, “we can get out of your hair. Head back to the city or something. So see, you should stay. And we’ll go.”

“No, that’s absurd. This is your house. I’m the interloper here. Even if Lark doesn’t report me, which I’m still doubting, I would get in the way. There’s no reason for me to be here if you’re here.”

“But it’s your job. None of us”—he paused on the word us, as if contemplating whether what he was about to say was true—“wants to take that from you. So, you should stay.”

“I’m already halfway packed.”

“Natalie,” he said softly.

He stepped forward into the room and placed his hand on one of the posters of the bed. His gaze softened and bore into mine. I was transfixed once more. The way he said my name. The way he stared at me. Oh god, he was such a menace.

“Don’t,” I snapped.

His eyebrows rose in response.

“Don’t say my name like you know me or even care whether I stay or go. We don’t know each other. And I’m certain I don’t want to know you.”

It was harsh but honest. And I didn’t feel bad, saying it.

“Fine,” he finally muttered on a sigh. “We’ll figure it out in the morning once you’ve cooled off.”

“I don’t need to cool off,” I bit out. “I’m perfectly levelheaded.”

“Just stay,” he barked.

“No, I think I should go.”

He walked back to the door. “Do whatever you want, I guess. I came to check to make sure that you weren’t humiliated after what happened. But it seems that your pride is too great to even continue staying under the same roof as us. You don’t have to stay,” he said, glancing back at me. “But, if you do, try to stay out of the way.”

He snapped the door closed behind him, and I threw the closest thing I had at the door. The pair of socks thudded uselessly against the door.

Here was the real Penn Kensington.

He wasn’t trying to make everything better. He was trying to keep from having to leave tonight while I was around. I was a nuisance and needed to stay out of his way. He made me want to scream. And not even in the fun way!

I didn’t even know how to respond to him. Pack or stay, it seemed I was playing into his hands. I flopped back onto the bed, sinking deep into the down comforter. When would I catch a break?

No. I wouldn’t succumb to this shit.

That was the old Natalie. The idealist who had let herself get taken advantage of. The new Natalie wasn’t going to play that game anymore.

I was the one who was supposed to be here. I was the one getting paid to watch the house. I wouldn’t stay in my room and cower. Not from Penn Kensington or his beautiful friends.

Natalie

4

I needed to get my phone.

Or at least that was my excuse.

I had my notebook and computer, but after those rejection letters, I didn’t feel like writing. My scant few paperbacks held no sway tonight. I just wanted my phone, so I could kill a few hours scrolling through Crew, the latest social media app the entire world was raving over. Maybe, if I had the nerve, I’d call Amy and tell her how much of a disaster this new job already was.

But I wouldn’t let that disaster hold me back from going out there to retrieve my phone. I needed to persevere and manage to escape this encounter unscathed.

Bolstered by the lingering side effects of all the bourbon I’d imbibed, I left my bedroom. The confidence I’d had while blow-drying my hair the last twenty minutes—thank god Amy had gotten me a Dyson for my birthday—was quickly evaporating like water on blacktop during a hot Texas summer. Trust me; I’d know. We’d spent two years in San Antonio when I was in elementary school.

I creeped down the hallway and stopped when I heard voices coming from the living room.

“We’re actually going to leave because of this girl?” I heard a female voice ask with annoyance in her voice.

Probably Katherine. Lark had seemed kind of cool at least. Understanding for sure.

“It’s my fault,” the other female voice said. Definitely Lark. “I should have known.”

“Stop saying that,” Katherine said. “We don’t have to apologize to anyone for showing up to a house one of us owns.”

“We could just go to your place,” a voice said. Sickeningly sweet. A taunt.

I peered into the living room and saw that it was Lewis who was grinning like a fool at Katherine.

“You know why we can’t go to my place,” she ground out.

“Yeah, stop goading her,” Lark said.

“Have you met me?” Lewis asked.

Rowe gruffly laughed once. He was staring down at the tablet in his lap. His laugh was the only indication that he was paying attention to the conversation.