Page 3 of Requiem & Reverie

“Not all of them.” Licking his lips, he smiles at that. “You have something far more valuable to me than pottery.”

Gaze sliding to the side, I catch Mister Gibbons, two stools down, eating his oatmeal and seemingly oblivious to our conversation. “Perhaps we can discuss this transaction at a later time.”

“Fair enough. But before I go, tell me I get to fuck you tonight.”

Clearing my throat, I busy myself with wiping down the countertop and steal the opportunity to check the proximity of other patrons. “Oliver will be home.”

“At some point, Oliver will be in bed, unless you allow him to stay up all night.”

“Absolutely not. But I … don’t think …” I clear my throat a second time, as Mrs. Granger hobbles past toward the cash register. “That’s a good idea to do those kinds of things just down the hall from my son.”

“Then, you can meet me in my apartment. After Oliver is asleep.”

“You’re awfully persistent.”

“When I want something, yes. I rarely back down from the opportunity to acquire it.”

My brows wing up, while I toy with the petals of a fresh flower sat in a vase on the counter. “Acquire? Am I like stock to you, Mister Voss? Something you can trade?”

“I wouldn’t trade you for anything, Star Wars. In fact, I’d promptly take you off the market.”

“Well, that’s interesting. Almost sounds like a commitment.”

“Temporarily, of course.”

“Of course. Listen, I have to get back to work.” I lean forward for a quick kiss, something that won’t make a spectacle, but he grips the back of my head, turning it far too intimate for my comfort, and I gotta believe the whole damn restaurant is watching us.

The second he pulls away, my fears are confirmed, when I turn to see all eyes fixed on us.

With a nervous swallow, I step back from the counter and smooth the wrinkles in my uniform. “Later.”

“Later,” he echoes.

Not even two seconds after Voss exits, Lara, who I’m pretty sure isn’t getting much action at home, saunters toward me.

“Mmmm. Daaaaddy. Details. I want details.” She takes a seat on one of the stools in front of me. “That motherfucker is hot. Like dirty hot.”

You have no idea. “What’s the difference between hot and dirty hot?”

“Hot would be the guy you take home to momma. But a guy like that? He’d probably fuck you and your momma.”

Eyes wide, I lean away from her and nab Mister Gibbons’ empty bowl. “Good thing I don’t have to worry about that, I guess.”

“Well, he gets the best of both worlds with you, doesn’t he?”

My phone rings, and typically I’d ignore it, but I consider it a save in this case.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Tensley?”

“Yes.”

“This is Principal Johnson, from Norvan Middle School.”

My heart stops beating for a second, and I mentally rewind his words in my head to the grim tone of his voice. “Is Oliver okay?”

“Oliver is fine. But I’m going to need you to come to the school right away.”