Nine
The Felonious Philanthropist
I’m on the toilet when the doorbell rings. Again.
“Go away!” My voice echoes through my bedroom and into my mostly empty loft, answered by heavy knocking. “Go AWAY!” Knocking gives way to pounding. “Gaaaaahhhhhh, this better be important.” I finish my business and wash my hands, fumbling around for my thick bathrobe while hollering at the door that I’ll be right there.
I don’t even bother to check the peephole. It’s probably Connor crawling back on all fours because he can’t stand to live without me after all. Thank the gods—I’m saved.
I yank the door open. “Ugh. What do you want?”
“Lara.” Rupert nods once and pushes past, inviting himself in. Raindrops have coalesced on the shoulders and sleeves of his finely tailored overcoat, his ever-present cact
