“Fine,” I mumbled, enjoying her attention too much to think of more to say.
I’d dropped her off at eleven this morning and went to Kai’s house to collect my snakes that Banks had been taking care of, and then I went to my apartment at Delcour and my room at my father’s to clear out the rest of my things.
I should’ve been looking for work, but right now, I just wanted her home before the snow started, and then I’d keep her up all night trying to make a kid we definitely couldn’t support yet.
We reached her little dressing room, and I let her down, watching her go pack up her bag and pull out her change of clothes and strip right there. I took the bag, half-tempted to plant her ass on the vanity and go right now, but…it was cold. I’d wait for the hot shower.
“Ready?” she asked, dressed in jeans, flats, and a cable-knit sweater.
Giving her my arm, I led her out of the room, through the backstage area, and out the rear exit and into the alleyway.
“Can I drive?” she teased.
I laughed under my breath. “You know the rules.”
Late, dark, and no witnesses.
We walked around the corner of the building, coming to the street, and I dropped her bag in my trunk before unlocking the car. As I opened my door, though, she stopped at hers and spoke to me over the hood.
“You know,” she said. “There’s stuff in the house we can sell. Art, furniture, rugs…I have some jewelry, too.”
“No.”
“Damon—”
“I’ll handle it,” I cut her off but kept my voice as gentle as possible. “I’ll get a job. I’ll deal with it. Don’t worry.”
It wasn’t that I expected her to do nothing, or that she wasn’t a partner in this, but I exposed her father. It was my responsibility to fix this and give her back the life she was used to. A life she deserved.
And it was definitely not okay for me not to be doing something.
I’d find an income. A legit one.
She opened her door, and we both climbed in, Mikhail jumping from where he waited in the passenger’s seat to the backseat to make room for Winter.
I ruffled the fur on his head, but my phone rang in the console where I’d left it, and I picked it up, seeing a local number.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Damon Torrance?” a man asked.
“Yes.”
“This is Grady MacMiller,” he introduced himself. “From Hiberian Bank?”
It sounded vaguely familiar.
“Yes?” I stuck my key in the ignition and started the car.
“Listen,” he said. “I know this is going to sound extremely odd, but I have to try. I came by to appraise the Ashby house yesterday while you were gone.”
That’s why his name was familiar. Banks owned the house now as part of my father’s assets. She was trying to get the books in order, and she’d warned me someone was coming by.
It was also a reminder that Winter probably couldn’t sell anything inside the house. Banks owned every stitch. I rubbed my eyes in frustration.
“Well, I brought my children with me,” he continued. “Unfortunately, the nanny was sick, and my wife has been—”
“Yes?” I interrupted.