Homeless

Chapter 11

I moved to the sink and washed my hands. Tiffany turned to face me. Leaning her hip against the counter, she crossed her arms, making her chest stand at attention even more.

"Who are you?" she asked, her tone haughty.

I slowly dried my hands with a paper towel, checking my reflection in the mirror to make sure Claire's earrings were still there. Tiffany tapped her feet on the floor in a quick rhythm. After I disposed of the towel, I looked at her.

"Why?" I asked, leveling her with a cool look. She narrowed her eyes.

"I don't care who you are." Then why'd she ask? "But stay away from Nathaniel. He's mine."

I pondered over whether to reply or just ignore her and leave. The way she spoke about Nathaniel as if he was a prize to be owned irritated me. And I was honest enough with myself to admit that I wanted to have some fun.

"I'm pretty sure he's not," I said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. She straightened up. She was a few inches taller than me, but even without my knife, I could handle her dainty limbs just fine. I tilted my head. Her arm would break too easily.

"You don't know anything about him, or us," she said, taking a step towards me, her eyes roaming up and down my body. "I don't recognize you from anywhere, which means one thing: You're just a wanna be poor girl who rented a good dress and some fake diamonds to hunt for a rich man, someone who'll take responsibility for you and your child who's probably the result of a one night fùck. You're just a gold digger. And as soon as Nathaniel sees that, he's going to kick you to the curb."

My brows shot up. The lack of class was staggering. But I was impressed; that brain of hers was good for something after all. She had come up with a whole story for my life all on her own. She thought Mark was my son.

I cleared my throat, my lips twitching upwards involuntarily. I just couldn't help it. This was way too amusing.

Tiffany scoffed. Her brows furrowed. "Are you... smiling?!"

"Well, yes. Yes, I am," I replied in a heartbeat.

"Why, you little whore." She sneered, her features twisting in anger.

Well, at least she got that right.

"If I ever see you around Nathaniel again, I'm going to make sure you and your son regret it," she said.

My smile vanished. No one threatened Mark. No one.

"Are you listen-" she said, her hand going up to push my shoulder. I slapped it away. Her eyes widened.

I thought about twisting her hand, or breaking a finger or two, but then I remembered that this wasn't the House. This was the real world. You didn't get away with things like that here.

"No. You listen to me," I said in a low voice, stepping forward until I was inches from her. She jerked backward, fear darkening her eyes. She was nothing but a clawless kitten, and I had faced fire breathing dragons before.

"Have some self respect and stop chasing around men who won't even spare you a glance," I continued. "Nathaniel made it clear he wasn't interested in what you have to offer anymore, and you're pissing him off. So for the last time, I'm going to tell you what he wanted to say but couldn't, because he's a gentleman: Fuck. The hell. Off."

She opened her mouth, then closed it. I took another step. She staggered back. I added, "and If you ever think about threatening me or my family again, I'm going to break that fake nose of yours."

She gasped, her fingers going to touch her nose. "It is not fake!"

Of course she'd get hung up on that.