I sigh as I remove a tray from the oven. I'd tried to bake a cake. Safe to say that didn't work.
It's half-burnt... but maybe I can cut the edges off? I'd been scouring the internet for things to do for someone sad, and one article suggested baking a cake. And so, I'd resolved to bake a cake. I'd quickly gone to the shop and picked up some ingredients and then proceeded to try.
See, I'm not a bad cook... for food. Cakes are a different issue altogether. It took me three tries to get the batter right, and now I have to deal with the overly burnt bits.
I swear, nowhere did it mention you had to be a professional to do this.
Not one to despair in times of need, I put my apron on once again and start on the frosting. This should be easier as it doesn't involve any funny oven business.
I end up concocting some type of frosting that is a bit overly sweet but is passable. I spread it on the non-burnt parts of the cake after cutting them in small shapes.
Satisfied with my work, or as confident as I can be, I start decorating a plate. I fill a glass with lemonade, add some ibuprofen for good measure, and then go to the office.
"Adrian?" I ask as I kick the door open with my uninjured shoulder, careful of the tray in my hands.
"I made you a cake." I smile, proud of myself.
Adrian's plopped face down on the desk, the half-empty bottle next to him.
I frown for a second, then sigh and put the tray somewhere else before going up to him.
"Adrian?" I gently tap his shoulder, but he doesn't reply, merely giving me a half-moan.
"Ok, mister, you're going to bed." I try my hardest to lift him up, but he is double my weight and then some more, so it's not that easy. "A little help would be appreciated," I mumble, but he doesn't seem to rouse.
With great hardship, I manage to get him on the bed or throw him on the bed when I'm within distance. Taking his shoes off, I try to make him more comfortable.
"B?" He groans, shifting around in bed.
"You're wasted," I say matter of factly.
"I fought for him... I made him money," He mutters, clearly referring to Jimenez and his days in the ring.
While I don't know a whole lot about his life as Adrian Barnett, Vlad implied that he was a successful fighter, often having weekly gigs with barely a respite in between. So, Jimenez or Andrew or whoever he is undoubtedly aimed to squeeze him dry.
Or was that his attempt at killing him, but it just backfired when Adrian wouldn't lose?
I stroke his forehead lightly and place a kiss on his brow. Now more than ever, I am set on making sure Jimenez will not live for much longer. I know that Adrian wants to get him to pay for his crimes in a court of law.
But how can I allow a man who's made my husband suffer like this live?
I can't.
The following day I try to get Adrian out of bed, but he's shunning all of my attempts. He's even taken to ignoring me, sulking all day under the sheets.
When the same behavior, coupled with excessive drinking, continues the next day, I'm out of options.
If cake can't solve this, I don't know what will.
And he didn't even get to eat my cake!
So I take to browsing the internet for solutions to my problems once more.
The more I read, the more I know what I need to do. I smile mischievously at the screen. This should get Adrian out of bed with a bang.
Or a meow.
I'm lucky enough that in this country, money can solve everything. It's entirely too simple to make an appointment the next day with a doctor.
"You want me to give you something for your allergies, is that correct?" The doctor, a bald man in his sixties, is studying me with narrow eyes. What's so hard about this request?
"Yes," I reply.
"Now?"
"Yes."
"You'll need to get tested to see what specifically causes your allergies..." He starts talking, and I already tune out. I look at my watch, and it's almost noon. I need to get everything done before they close all the shelters.
"Look. I don't have the time. I already told you. I'm allergic to cats. Now give me the pills."
"Mrs. Hastings... it doesn't work like that." He continues in that admonishing voice, but I cut him off.
"Sorry, doctor..." I forgot his name. "But I really need to be able to stand next to a cat and not sneeze my lungs out. I would really appreciate it if you prescribed me something now."
"Mrs..." Oh, for Hell's sake. I take my bag and pull out a stack of one hundred bills, which I promptly slap on his desk.
"Yes, I can certainly prescribe some cetirizine. You'll find that it won't make you drowsy and won't interact with your day to day activities." He immediately gets to work.
It's funny how quickly he changed his tune when money got involved. Now, I'm not actively promoting bribing doctors, especially as a newly recovered addict.
But this is, in fact, an emergency.
I need to pull through with my plan to make sure Adrian quits moping around. Also because I really want him to take me on that promised date... but first I have to get him out of bed.
As soon as I have my prescription, I'm in my car and driving to the nearest pharmacy, also keeping track of all the shelters around. When I was researching, I compiled a list with all the shelters in Manhattan.
I can't just get any cat. I need a super cat.
Armed with an entire month supply of cetirizine, I head to the first shelter. I must have really tuned out the doctor because I am entirely too surprised to see the allergy medicine is syrup and not pills. Well... if it works, it doesn't make a difference.
The clerk at the first shelter shows me around their feline selection, and I can't say I'm impressed. They aren't either if I go by the way they scoff their cat snouts at me.
My nose is a little itchy, but not as bad as before, and it gets progressively better as I go from shelter to shelter.
When I'm at the fourth shelter, I'm greeted by an overly friendly girl, who sings all types of praises to the animals they house. She takes me to their cat area and shows me a couple adorable kittens.
I start petting one of them when a flash of pink snatches my attention. I turn my head to get a better look, and I'm greeted by the ugliest cat I've ever seen in my life.
Hairless, her whole body is pale and wrinkly, her big eyes bulging from her bald head.
I look at her. She looks at me. We engage in a battle of spirits, and she doesn't back down. I also notice that she's in a cage of its own, unlike the other cute ones.
"What about that one?" I ask, and I go near the cage.
The girl shakes her head, "I... I probably shouldn't say this because we want all of them to end up in good homes..." Her bottom lip is trembling as she continues. "She's been returned five times so far. She's too...aggressive." She says the last word in a hushed tone, and I think the cat senses because it looks at her and bares its teeth.
"See?" She says and takes a few steps back.
"Can I open the cage?"
"Fine. But I'm over there." She points to the other corner of the room where the cuties are, and I shrug. Whatever.
I take the key from her and open the cage. The moment the door swings open, the cat charges me, claws out.
As I was crouching to get to her, I lose my balance and end up falling on my back. The cat is now on my chest, one clawed paw up in a threatening manner. I arch my eyebrow at her, and she tilts her head as if she understands me. We stare at each other for a while longer until she decides to finally scratch the hell out of my neck.
That. Hurt.
My hands shoot out to grab the little troublemaker, and I lift her up while she's struggling to do more damage.
"Stop!" I command. Once again, she raises her eyes and looks at me. Her pupils narrow into a slit and after an almost nod, she stops fighting. My lips curl up in response.
"I'm taking her," I yell at the girl. She frowns at my voice and tells me to deal with her colleague at the
entrance desk.
After sorting all the paperwork, I get to take Miss troublemaker home. While she's not as aggressive with me, I get why the girl was so afraid.
The moment I let her out of my hands, she went crazy on the clerk drawing up the adoption papers. She immediately jumped on him and latched onto his skin, leaving clean marks behind.
After we leave the store, I make sure to pet her.
"Proud of you." As I stare into her eyes, a name comes to me. "From now on, you are Maleficent." Or when I'm lazy, Mally.
I give her a wink that she probably doesn't understand, but I'm sure we have our own communication channel.
I'm somehow reluctant to put Mally in the carrier I'd purchased for her, so I settle her on my shoulder after I strap myself in.
"Be a good girl and don't injure me during traffic," I tell her, and she gives my cheek a slow lick.
Yes. She understands.
I start the car to go back home. A few times, I check my mirror and note the same car keeping a safe distance behind. Odd...
I take some random turns to see whether it follows, but I lose track of it after a while. Maybe it's my paranoid mind at work. I shake my head and head home. All the way, Mally keeps purring in my ear, and I can't help but smile.
"Adrian?" I yell his name when I'm back at the penthouse. Mally is still perched on my shoulder and seems to have really sunk her claws into my clothes, which prevent her from falling any time I move rather suddenly.
He doesn't answer. Odd.
But when I go towards the kitchen, I'm greeted by a disheveled, clearly hungover Adrian, who is furtively eating some toast.
"Really?" I fold my hands in front of me and ask.
Adrian gives me a sheepish smile, and I add. "Well, at least you're out of bed."
"What's that?" He points towards Mally, his mouth still full of toast.
"This is our new friend." I raise my hand to stroke Mally's head, and she gives a tiny yap. Adrian is suddenly alert but looks at me suspiciously.
"Is that a toy?"
"What? No!" I try to get Mally off me, but she doesn't seem to want to detach herself.
"Help?" I ask Adrian, and he joins in the effort to free Mally. Or free me from Mally.
By the time Mally is off my shoulders, she is already in full tantrum mode, and she's growling at Adrian something fierce.
"Mally!" I command her attention. I finally got Adrian a cat, and she hates him? No... we can't have that. "Behave!" I tell her, and she stares at me.
I return the stare, and I think some time passes before Adrian clears his throat.
"Mally?" He asks, lifting the cat slightly to look at her. She's now stopped struggling and starts regarding Adrian with curiosity rather than animosity.
"Maleficent. She's our new cat. She's great!" I feel the need to add that, so he doesn't think I got the most unfriendly cat on purpose.
No, me and Mally have an understanding, and Adrian just needs to join in.
"Is that so?" He asks skeptically. "What about your allergy?"
"I got meds!" I exclaim and show him my syrup. "But she's bald, so... I don't know if she's all that harmful."
"Hmm... maybe." He's now cradling Mally to his chest, and she's almost putty in his arms.
Traitor.
"But why did you get a cat?"
"Because you've been a moping mess recently. I didn't know what else to do to get you out of bed. And here you were stealing food while I wasn't home." I pout and pretend to be upset. He looks embarrassed at my words, and I can see a trace of red staining his cheeks.
"I'm good now." He says, but he's not even glancing at me. He's looking at Mally.
There's a moment of panic when I see Mally raise her head and give me a satisfied He's mine look.
Lord, did I make a mistake?
"Take me on a date!" I tell him, needing to show Mally who's in charge. But mostly needing my promised date.
"Now?"
"Well..." I start, and I get closer to sniff him. "After you take a shower."
He looks at me as if he doesn't know what I'm talking about, but when he catches a whiff of his own scent, he doesn't waste any time dumping Mally in my lap dashing for the bathroom.
"Now. Some house rules." I get Mally's attention, feeling like we need to set some boundaries. "He's mine. You can borrow him." I use my finger to tilt her head up. "But he is mine." After what feels like a battle of wills through our stares, Mally is the first to back down, and I give her a nice petting as a reward.
When Adrian is freshly showered and dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a polo shirt, I give him my approval.
We set up Mally with food and water and let her become acquainted with the house while we go away for a little while.
"I'm sorry," Adrian adds once we're in the elevator.
"It's ok. You can be sad. But don't ignore me next time." His hand seeks mine, and he lifts it to his lips for a quick peck.
"You need constant attention, don't you?"
"Maybe..." I frown, realizing that I do need attention... specifically his attention.
He chuckles and puts his hand around my waist, tugging me at his side.
"I think I needed some time to come to terms with everything. I just can't believe I spent years under that man, basically being his faithful dog."
"I still don't understand why he would do that.... maybe he hoped you'd lose a fight and die?"
"That's the thing, I don't think he did. He was always the one to push me to train harder, to be better."
"That's odd."
"Yeah. I'll make sure to find out why when I catch him. But now... you have my undivided attention."
"Do I?" I flutter my eyelashes at him.
"I promised to let you choose our date. So, go ahead. I shall be your servant."
As the elevator doors open, he bends at the waist in a faux bow, and I can't help but giggle.
"Let's go to that Italian pizza place we both love," I suggest, leaving my dream date idea for the next time. I don't think Adrian would be in the mood to go to a shooting range right now.
See, I can be considerate.
"Sure. Cab or driving?"
"Cab. You can have a glass of wine. Just one, though." I wink at him, and he groans.
"I swear my descent into the whiskey bottle has been a very limited three-day trip. Won't happen again."
We take a cab and head Downtown to the restaurant. I suggested this one because you don't usually need to book in advance, and is rather casual.
When we arrive, we are lucky to get a window table, and we order, both getting a pizza each and a glass of red wine.
"We haven't been here in a really long time," Adrian states as he looks around.
"We haven't been on a date in a really long time." I correct, and he sighs.
"I'm glad we're doing this... I want to give this a fair shot. Us." He smiles at me, and I feel my cheeks flame.
"Speaking of that. I wanted to tell you something. I quit my job." I say and avert my eyes, not knowing what to expect.
"Your job? At the foundation?" He frowns but awaits my explanation.
"I never liked it. I did it… Well, frankly, I did it because I thought you'd like me better if I was involved in the community." He doesn't look at me for a moment, swirling the wine in his glass and watching the liquid move in circles.
"What else?"
"What else?" I ask, not knowing exactly what he's talking about.
"What else did you do because of me?"
"Ugh..." I cringe internally at this, mainly because there are just too many things. "I studied social studies and business because you seemed into that." I immediately take a sip of wine, not really wanting to see his reaction.
"More. Tell me more."
"I hate fish!" I blurt out, and his eyes widen for a second before bursting into laughter.
"You hate fish?"
"Yes. All those times I ate it with you, I puked it afterward. Fish is just... vil
e."
"At least now I know what not to cook you anymore."
"Sorry," I mumble, feeling bad because he'd always cook me fish when I was feeling under the weather, thinking it was my favorite food. Instead, it only served to make me sicker and prolong my period of convalescence.
"This is... interesting. What else?" He's amused at this point, so I'm not that worried anymore. All the things I'd done to impress him just roll off my tongue from how I dressed to how I styled my hair and makeup, even to my lack of body art.
"You wanted to get tattoos?"
"Hell, yes. You haven't seen Vlad naked..." I start but catch myself when I see the fire in his eyes at that mention. "He's covered in ink. Every inch of his body is tattooed."
"Vlad? I never realized." He adds pensively.
"He had them done in such a way that you can't tell with the way he dressed."
"And even your hair? Come on, B." He veers the topic away from Vlad, and I'm thankful, not wanting any tension tonight.
"Yup. Always wanted to bleach it."
"You should." He says, and I almost drop my fork.
"Really?" He nods, and my excitement gets the best of me, dumping more information that maybe should have stayed hidden.
"I also hated having sex at first." I wince at my own words.
"What, why?" Adrian asks, genuine concern in his voice.
"It hurt too much for the first few times." I shrug.
"I'm sorry. I never realized it." He squeezes my hand.
"It's not your fault. I was very good at pretending. That and I have a pretty high pain threshold."
He anxiously takes a sip of the wine before admitting it. "It was probably my fault. I... wasn't very experienced. I didn't know how to read a woman's body."
"Are you for real?" I almost choke on my food when I hear him.
"Honestly, everything I learned was with you... or Pink, I should say."
"I can't believe that." I start laughing because really, it's just too funny. Adrian looks at me, curiously.
"We both had no idea what we were doing but were pretending to be experts. Don't you see the irony?" I ask him, still laughing.
"I guess when you put it like that..." That elicits a smile from him, and I shake my head.
"I'm probably going to regret asking this, but what do you mean exactly when you say you weren't experienced?" I almost bite my tongue when I ask this.
Morally Corrupt: A Dark Romance (Morally Questionable Book 1) Page 29
