Chapter Forty-Four

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"So how's roommate life?" I ask Damian as he walks me to Gabby's.

He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't see Zane much. Mom likes him, though."

"Well, that's good."

"It's only been a few weeks. Once he gets comfortable, he might start acting up."

"He won't," I assure him. "He isn't like that."

Zane has told me countless times how grateful he is to be living with Moira and Damian instead of with his step-family. While Bradley wasn't abusive, he treated him like a burden. Zane felt like a stranger in his house. A ghost.

For the time being, our bedroom activities have been put on pause. I don't feel comfortable ggetting naked in the Forbes' basement, and he doesn't want to mess up his new home situation.

"And the blood? It's still safe?" I ask.

"It's chilling in the freezer." Chuckling, Damian adds, "That pun was unintended."

"Either way, it wasn't funny," I lie. I thought it was kind of amusing.

We arrive at Gabby's. He gives me a quick hug before taking off, probably to spend the chilly Sunday afternoon snuggled up next to Jessica. He seems to have reeled in his newfound super strength, so while my sex life is now nonexistent, theirs is better than ever.

"Hi, Layla!" Gabby waves when she spots me.

I smile at my boss's cheerfulness. "How's it going, Gabby?"

"It's been a good day," she replies. "It's been slow this afternoon, so I have Haven working the floor. Would you mind helping clean up in the back?"

"Yeah, absolutely," I agree, thankful that I don't have to wait on entitled teenagers today.

Six hours later, both the breakroom and the kitchen are spotless. I, on the other hand, am drenched in sweat and desperate for a shower. I say goodbye to Gabby and exit the diner.

I wait for Margo to arrive, except she doesn't. A half hour passes, and she still isn't here.

My grandmother is never late, at least not when it is is comes to me. Hell, she gets mad when I don't punch out on time.

Both the frigid air and my growing anxiety make it impossible to stand still. I pace back and forth, praying that the next pair of headlights I see belongs to Margo's beat up Honda.

A car does pull up in front of me, but it isn't my grandmother's. It's a sleek Bentley with tinted glass work and a bright blue exterior.

The driver's side window rolls down, revealing a wicked smile and a mane of red hair.

"Like my new wheels?" Taisley asks.

"I'm sure your father paid a pretty penny for them," I toss back, swallowing the egg in my throat.

Still clutching the steering wheel, she shrugs her slender shoulders. "Oh, he did, but money's not the most important thing to him. You want to know what is?"

"Enlighten me, Taisley."

"Those vials you stole. Where are they, Layla?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." It takes everything I have to keep a straight face. "Unless you're here to offer me a ride home, I suggest you—"

The redhead shakes her head. "You're smart, but you're a terrible liar."

"Even if I had what it is you're looking for," I hiss, crossing my arms over my chest, "I wouldn't tell you. Our friendship is over, remember?"

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