I don’t know how in the hell I’m supposed to keep my hands off of her. Her body was made for sin—lush tits, wide hips, tiny waist. Her face is the one that I see whenever I jack off, and now the only impediment to having her is gone.
Did Michael know what he was doing when he left Sera in my care? How am I supposed to watch over her and not be in her bed plowing her every night until dawn? I choke on the bitter irony. Maybe Michael did this to punish me for lusting after his wife. It’s a suitable punishment. Every day with her will be hell.
4
SERA
He’s staying.
A pile of suitcases sit by the front door along with a few boxes. “Someone dropped them off a few moments ago,” Dora tells me. “I’m guessing this means he’ll be staying?”
“I guess.” It’s not a few small bags. I’m not even sure if Jericho is in town because of Michael or if he lives in the city.
I think Michael said he has a few homes but travels a lot for work. These bags don’t look like an amount one would travel with. Especially the boxes. He had to have had them brought over from somewhere within driving distance. There is no way he managed to plan this so quickly.
“Which room should I put them in?” Dora asks, always willing to help.
“You’re not putting them in any room. He can carry his own crap.”
I’m not going to do anything to make Jericho feel welcome here. He can handle his own bags. He’s made it perfectly clear that he’s not going to make things easy for me, so I plan to return the favor. I don’t even understand why he’s doing this. It’s bullshit.
I didn’t realize he knew about Asher, honestly. He obviously did. I hadn’t missed his comment about Asher clearly being Michael’s son. It’s true. Asher is the spitting image of his father. I both love and hate it. I think with time I’ll love it. Right now, it still hurts so much when I look into Asher’s eyes and see Michael. He was the only person that has ever loved or cared about me. I would probably be curled up in a ball in some corner with grief if it weren’t for Asher.
Michael must not have told Jericho that Asher isn’t mine by birth. He is legally mine. If Jericho thinks he will take my little boy away from me, he’s got another think coming. Over my dead body will that ever happen. I love my baby more than anything else in this whole world.
I knew Jericho was making a dig at me being a whore. He can think of me as a whore all he wants, but it’s not going to be acceptable for him to speak that way in front of my son.
“Which room will be mine?” Jericho comes strolling out of Michael’s office. He’s making himself right at home.
“I’ve got to get back to Asher. Unless you—”
“I’ve got it, Dora. Thank you for getting the door.” She nods before turning to leave.
“I wasn’t prepared for a guest.” I try to hint that I don’t really want him here. I’m not sure why I do it when I know it won’t make a difference with Jericho. He couldn’t care less what I want.
“Any room will do.”
“Do you really need to stay here? I mean—”
“Michael clearly thought I needed to be here for some reason.” His words are a smack to my face.
Tears sting at the back of my eyes. Did Michael really think I was incapable of taking care of Asher? I’d held us all together over this last year without so much as missing a step.
“Follow me.” I get out, turning and heading up the stairs to the top floor. “The guest room was converted to meet Michael’s medical needs over the last year. You can have the master bedroom.” I push open the double doors. It’s on the other side of the house and the furthest from Asher and me.
“You don’t sleep here?” Jericho steps into the room.
“No, I sleep in a different room.” He glances around.
“I can’t take Michael’s room.”
“It hasn’t been his room for a long time. He actually had me remodel it for some reason.” It had been an odd request, but Michael often made those kinds of requests. I thought maybe it was something to keep us busy. He knew how I was getting about leaving the house, and still even while dying he was trying to keep my mind off what was happening to him.
“Where is your bedroom?” He cuts a look my way.
“I have a room next to the nursery, but sometimes I sleep in the nursery.” That might be a small lie. I haven’t slept in my room in months. It felt cold and lonely in there.