Two
I huffed and kicked a piece of trash across the room.
Derek sighed loudly and lifted his welding mask. "Are you going to carry on sulking?" he asked me.
"Yes."
"Do you have to do it in my workshop?" He sounded more amused than annoyed by my presence.
"It's your fault I'm here," I muttered.
"Yes. The blood slave in your kitchen that was bought by your sort-of-fiance is my fault."
"If you hadn't kept sending me presents..."
"Presents? What presents?"
"The ones you've been sending to the house." I frowned. "They've been arriving all week."
"They're not from me. I've only ever given you things in person, unless it's a gadget." He set down his tools and walked over to me.
"What? Are you sure?"
"Would you like to check my bank account?" He raised an eyebrow, and I had no doubt th
