Page 147 of Reckless Obsession
“It’s manipulative,” Tyler snaps. “He knew I’d say yes if he put a sad little kitten in front of me.”
“So he knows you well,” I say.
Tyler shoots me a glare. “I hate both of you.”
The kitten chooses that exact moment to stretch, arching her tiny back before she settles again. Her black fur catches the chandelier light, making her look almost unreal, like someone cut her out of the night sky and placed her directly onto Alex’s expensive dining table.
Milo whines again.
“Don’t you dare,” Tyler tells him.
Milo’s tiny tail wags harder.
Lucas adjusts his hold around the corgi’s middle. “He just wants to say hello.”
“He wants to harass her.”
“He’s friendly.”
“He’s a menace.”
Milo lets out a scandalized little bark, as if he understands every word.
Lucas chuckles quietly. “Did Viktor take her to the vet before giving her to you?”
“Yeah,” Tyler replies, still watching the kitten. “Got her checked out and everything. Vaccines, dewormed, the whole thing. He was weirdly thorough about it.”
“Of course he did,” I say. “The man clearly did his research before saddling his sugar baby with a cat.”
“Call me his sugar baby one more fucking time and I’m gonna poison your drink.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Tyler shoots me a glare sharp enough to cut glass, but the kitten pads closer to the edge of the table—right toward him. Without thinking, Tyler’s hand moves to catch her before she gets too close to the edge.
“In two days,” he says, pointing at her, “she scratched me three times, peed on my bathroom rug, knocked a glass off the counter, and somehow got into my closet. She’s chaotic and very stubborn.”
“I think that’s why Viktor said she reminds him of you.” I shrug. “You’re chaotic and stubborn.”
“I hate you just as much as I hate Viktor.”
Lucas, still gently holding a wiggling Milo, tilts his head. His voice is soft, almost thoughtful.
“So… you don’t hate him then?”
Tyler’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Nothing comes out.
I can’t help the quiet chuckle that escapes me.
“If you hate him like you always claim,” I continue, raising a brow, “why would you let him do that to you?”
Tyler’s brows pull together. “What do you mean?”
I gesture lazily towards his neck. “The hickeys. Your make-up didn’t hide them very well, by the way.”
His hand flies up to his throat. Color floods his face almost instantly.
“I—”
