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I made a noncommittal noise, conveniently taking another drag off the cigarette. It was such a loaded question, I didn’t know how to respond — not that Eduard truly cared either way. Outside of Roan, he was the closest thing I had to family, but that didn’t mean he gave a shit about my romantic life. Still, I hated I didn’t have a clear answer, even if it was just for myself.
How was Roan? Fucking awful. Not eating. Not sleeping, only to turn around and sleep for days at a time. Possibly cheating on me with some scrawny fucking hipster. Absolutely miserable leaving the apartment unless it had something to do with music. Picking fights with me over the most random shit, like how I put the goddamn eggs in the carton in the refrigerator. I didn’t think there was a “way” to do it, but apparently I’d been doing it wrong my entire life, so thank God Roan showed me the error of my ways. How did I ever survive without having the egg carton properly balanced?
And what was I doing to make his life easier? To help him get back to normal? Not a goddamn thing, except making it worse, apparently, even when I was simply trying to make him happy.
Eduard shook his head. “It’s not too late to find a woman, you know.”
Rolling my eyes, I flicked some ash out the window. “I don’t want a woman.”
“What about Daria?”
My grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Don’t even fucking go there.”
Eduard shrugged. “You made it work once. You could make it work again.”
“That wasn’t a relationship, idiot. That was me fucking the princess on command whenever she felt like it.”
“You know, there are worse things in the world than being told to have sex with a beautiful woman.”
“Oh yeah?” I shot a pointed look his way. “What if I told you you had to have sex with a man? But don’t worry, he’s beautiful.”
I could feel his glare before he even started sputtering. “Th—that is different! One is natural and the other is…” He shook his head, too flustered to even say it. “Ok, fine. Not her. What about someone else? Sveta or Mila. Someone who can cook for you. Take care of you.”
“I can cook for myself. And do we really need to have a conversation about this?”
“I don’t understand, Sasha. He’s aman. Not even a man. A boy. Like a little bunny. What is appealing about that? If you squeeze him too hard, his head will pop off.”
If looks could kill, the look I sent Eduard’s way would have skewered him on the spot. If he was anyone else, I would have knocked his goddamn teeth out. Roan wasn’t as fragile as Eduard was implying, but there was no way in hell I was going to get into that with him.
“I will never understand you.” Eduard shook his head before taking a sip of his tea and turning his attention out the window.
“That makes two of us,” I muttered.
When we pulled up in front of the Sinclairs’ mansion, Eduard swallowed. I ignored his sudden alertness, backing the flatbed into the middle of the driveway and parking it.
“This is a terrible idea,” he said again, like I didn’t hear the first time.
“You’ll be gone before they even know what’s going on.”
I left the engine running and strolled over to the garage doors. Knowing this idiot, he probably didn’t bother changing the code. Before I went breaking in, I punched in the numbers Roan had used only months ago.
The door slid up quietly, revealing Phillip Sinclair’s dark blue Porsche.
I knew when Eduard caught up by the small squeak behind me. Turning, I chuckled to see his mouth agape, staring at the car like the beauty she was.
“I get to drive that?” he asked, almost breathless.
“Straight to Anton’s cousin.” I tossed him the cloned key with a smirk. “Don’t scratch it.”
He grinned and slipped past me, easing himself down into the black leather seat. “Oh my God. It still smells new.”
“Have fun,” I said, closing the driver’s door and walking out of the garage.
In a matter of moments, the Porsche rolled backward, made a sharp U-turn in the driveway and sped off down the street.
As the garage door closed, I returned to the truck. Punching the button on the hydraulic system, I waited patiently while the top of the bed lifted. Slowly, a mountain of car parts and dented body panels spilled all over the driveway.
Unlike the garage door, this was bound to draw their attention, even in a gargantuan house, with all the metal clanging together.
