Page 35 of Violent Little Thing

I did a quick Duck Duck Go search and said, “Yes, as long as it’s company-wide. It’s either all or nothing.”

He curled his lip up in distaste and then started emptying out his lunch box.

He had some leafy green salad with no croutons, a wrap that had some sort of seeds in it, and a drink that was also green.

Overall, it looked disgusting.

I pulled out my teriyaki chicken and rice and twisted off the lid of my electric lunchbox.

“Fancy,” he said as he stabbed into the salad.

I looked at his salad. “That salad has walnuts, berries, and vinaigrette. I think if anyone is fancy here, it’s you.”

He shrugged. “Easy to make. The dressing is actually olive oil and lemon juice. It has a surprisingly good flavor, considering.”

“Hmm.” I pulled out my chopsticks and started to eat, not adding much commentary until I’d finished but he was still going. “Do you eat carbs?”

“Some,” he admitted. “Not much since that day that I killed my wife.”

I paused with my chopsticks halfway into my lunchbox.

“Why not?” I asked. “I looked up the syndrome you have. It’s treatable.”

“I did treat it,” he admitted. “They had to fix my gut biome. I was on medicine at first, then changed it up with my eating and a few other things. I have it mostly under control now, to the point where I can eat carbs. But I still tend to avoid them.”

I licked my fingers, which had traces of teriyaki sauce, and said, “You’re missing out on life.”

He looked over my shoulder and focused on what appeared to be the sky as he said, “That was what Lauri, my wife, said the night that I killed her. That I needed to learn to live a little. That night she forced me to eat all kinds of carbs. Even topped everything off with cake. And though I like food, I’m satisfied enough in my life and my food choices that I don’t think I’ll ever eat poorly ever again.”

“Not even when you get remarried and you eat your wedding cake?” I wondered.

He focused on me. “I’ll never marry again.”

That struck me as horribly sad.

What kind of life was that?

“Since I’ve never had a boyfriend, or even a serious anything before, I can’t confirm or deny that this is true but…that sounds like it’s going to be a sucky existence.”

His eyes, so vividly gray, focused on me.

“I died with my wife that night,” he offered. “My body may be physically here, but my soul left with her. I don’t ever want to experience that again, so no, I won’t remarry. I don’t care if that gives me a shitty existence or not. Anything is better than never feeling that pain again.”

“Hmm,” I mused. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He looked away.

Seeing as there was no reason to dwell on the fact that living half a life was no life at all, I changed the subject. “What did she do to get banned from your half of the building?”

Anger lit his features.

“After you left last night, she ‘came to bury the hatchet.’ In reality, she wanted to try to shmooze her way into my good graces. When I informed her that not only was she not going to get me to warm up to her after everything that she’s done to not only Beau, but you and Koen and Ida Bell, she tried to make a pass at me. I told her to leave, or I’d be calling security. Then she tried to kiss me, and I might’ve knocked her onto her ass.”

“She’s not used to men telling her no.” I chuckled. “I remember in high school, Sonja had this crush on a junior. He was this tall drink of water with eyes the color of the sea. He had the dark good looks, the muscles, and the personality. Sonja asked him out. He said yes. By that night, Seraphina was fucking him in her car in the parking lot.”

Court curled his lip in disgust. “It sounds like she solves everything one of two ways. With her money. And if that doesn’t work, with her pussy.”

“Got it in one,” I said. “She’s used to everyone falling at her feet. And usually, that’s what men do. But there’s a new trend that’s forcing her to reevaluate her tricks.”