Poison Kiss by Ana Mardoll

Author:Ana Mardoll
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ana Mardoll

Chapter 15

Elric's duplex is as sumptuously posed as he is. Though the enormous effort and expense that has gone into staging his bachelor pad is obvious at a glance, the effect is undiminished: both the man and his home are meticulously gorgeous. The downstairs is open and clean, sparse but not spartan. The carpet has been pulled up and replaced with dark hardwood laminate that is far too expensive for the neighborhood, then decorated in thick shag rugs that look recently dry-cleaned. A black leather couch dominates the main room, facing a sleek entertainment system. Surround-sound speakers that are probably quite expensive peer down at visitors from the corners of the ceiling.

I know I'm supposed to be impressed, even seduced, by the setting but the place feels cold and antiseptic in comparison to the warmth of Mina's apartment. I wish I were there now with Lavender and Clarent, calling dibs on the colorful pillows that decorate her couch and settling in to watch one of her favorite movies. I know I made the right decision in letting them go, just as Celia made the right decision in pushing them together, but that doesn't mean I don't get to be miserable now that it's done.

The company I'm keeping is not helping to alleviate my mood. Elric pushes past me at the doorway, still in a furious sulk, and tromps heavily up to the second floor. His stomping is muffled by the thick carpet on the stairs. "Stay there," he orders, not bothering to glance over his shoulder at me. I scowl at his retreating back and head to the kitchen, determined to find something to scavenge. He hasn't exactly begged that I make myself at home, but I'm not going to bed on an empty stomach.

The kitchen looks out onto the living room via an open counter-top that doubles as a bar. The cooking equipment, such as it is, is noticeably sparse compared to the expensive gadgetry in the living room. Evidently Elric is not in the habit of cooking. Both the fridge and the pantry confirm that impression; save for a handful of sodas, potato chips, and dry cereal, the apartment is apparently devoid of food.

I make a face and dig through the available options. There's a ginger ale brand that I'm partial to, and he has the Kettle chips I like, the ones that feel so familiar on my tongue. I'd rather have a solid meal to settle my stomach, especially after sleeping through lunch, but I've been hungry before. I'll survive.

I'm sitting on the couch with my gleanings, working the sandals off my feet and staring at the blank television screen, when Elric stomps back down the stairs. He's found a cotton shirt to cover his bare chest, which seems strange given that he spent the entire day in ostentatious display at Worth's house. He carries a pillow under one arm, and a blanket tossed over his shoulder.

"You're sleeping on the couch down here," he announces, then does a double-take at the chips in my hands.

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