I make sure I’m not around when Francia arrives. I hear the crunch of wheels on the pavement outside and the shuffle of movement deep in the house, but I stay in my office. She can carry her own ass across the threshold. f**k knows I’m not going to do it.
The only time I’ll carry Francia anywhere is to an exit. Preferably in a body bag.
As the minutes tick past, my fingers itch to do something. To stay busy. I want to text Yasha about anything he may have found out about Marcus St. Clair in the ninety minutes since we spoke, but I know it’s too soon for that. Besides, I don’t want to do anything that Francia could walk in and see. The b***h doesn’t need any more leverage.
So I dig through my top drawer and find the Save the Date mock-ups Anya sent me last week. Actually, she dropped the
