Late for the Landlord (Curvy for Keeps Book 6) by Annabelle Winters

Author:Annabelle Winters [Winters, Annabelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rainshine
Published: 2020-10-11T16:00:00+00:00

7

ULRICH

I feel alone like I’ve never felt before—which is darned strange since I’ve always been alone. Never felt it like this, though. Never felt that ache in my chest, that yearning in my heart, that pull in my gut. Being close to Una makes me feel something I don’t want to feel, and I hurriedly pack the few things into my navy duffel so I can head to the airport after breakfast and never come back to this place.

It’s late but I’m wide awake and wired like an owl on the hunt. It’s dark in the apartment since that last bulb popped earlier, but I can see clearly enough. Can’t see clearly through what’s happening in my head, though. Why do I feel drawn to Una in a way that’s more than just raw animal lust? Why am I getting flashes of Una in a white wedding dress, her belly round with my babies, her cheeks rosy with excitement, that ruby ring eclipsed by a black diamond ring the size of the moon? Where are these fantasies coming from? What’s going on here?

“Doesn’t matter now,” I say as I drape myself lengthwise over the hard-cushioned couch. My legs stick out and one shoulder is off the side, but somehow I find a stable position and exhale hard as I go over the madness of the day. Soon I’m smiling, and I shake my head at how easily I walked up there and handed over a million dollars that should be my birthright. What was I thinking? Am I really a man of saintlike morals and untouchable integrity? Or is there something else at play here?

Now I swing my legs off the couch and sit up, frowning and then reaching for the stack of papers I’ll need for the lawyer meeting tomorrow. I slide out a copy of the official will the lawyer emailed me. I read through the short, formal little document again, but this time something stands out: Although the will clearly states the building is to be left to her son, I’m not mentioned by name. My address isn’t in there.

“Huh,” I mutter, stroking my beard as I wonder if maybe Mother didn’t know where I was—maybe didn’t know who I was either. So how did the lawyer find me so soon after she died?

There’s movement behind my ear, and I whip around as I feel the air swirl in the room. The windows are open but the curtains are still, and I rub the back of my head and force a smile. “Got ghosts on my mind,” I mutter as I think back to Una’s comment about this being a ghost story. Whose ghost, though? My Mother? Maybe Una’s Momma too?

Just as I think it there’s a sound from the kitchen counter, and when I turn I almost leap through the window when I see one of the candles flicker on, its golden-red flame making the shadows dance against the cabinets!

“Motherfucker!” I shout, jumping up and down to get that creepy feeling out of me.

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