Read Online Fury: Book One of the Cure (Omnibus Edition) by Charlotte McConaghy - Free Book Online

me, since I’ve witnessed how good you are at it.”
    “Thanks, smartass.”
    Luke potters in the kitchen while I explore. The living room has huge white leather couches, upon which you could probably fall into a coma from relaxation. A shiny screen covers one entire wall, and I wonder if it’s a hologram or just a normal TV. I snoop through a few drawers but find nothing of any interest. He has no books, but that’s not really a surprise.
    I pad barefoot down the long hallway, peering into the rooms. There are at least two guest bedrooms that look like they belong in a hotel. Luke’s master bedroom has a double king—I’ve never seen a bed so big. I could lie lengthwise across it with my hands stretched high, and still I wouldn’t be able to reach the edges. His clothes are inside a massive walk-in wardrobe that lights up when I walk in. He has suits—at least fifty of them—on racks that spin. Fifty. I can’t picture him in a suit at all, but he must wear them for work. There are a lot of other clothes, all much nicer than the ratty shirts and jeans he’s been wearing for the last few days. And his shoes! Dozens of pairs—dress shoes, work shoes, sandals and sneakers , so many sneakers! I stand there in the brilliant false light, staring at the sea of footwear, and I begin to feel uncomfortable. It puts into perspective my own abysmal collection of attire. I own two pairs of shoes, and I’d thought it was excessive to buy the second pair because they’re black heeled boots and I can’t wear them during the day.
    “Having a good snoop?” Luke asks from the doorway and I spin to face him. He must see something in my expression because his smile disappears and he looks just as uncomfortable as I feel. “It’s disgusting, I know,” he says softly. “Work pays for it. I don’t get much of a choice about any of this—they bought my apartment, furnished it and then paid for my wardrobe to be stocked.” Luke walks further into the closet, running his large hands along the fabrics. “Sometimes I want to burn the whole place down. I wouldn’t miss a single thing in it. Isn’t that stupid?”
    I shrug. I have no idea what to say.
    “Come on. I’m making breakfast.”
    “I’ll be there in a minute. I want to snoop some more.”
    He leaves me to it. I look at the wardrobe for another minute, then find my way to the bathroom. Along the way I realize that he has no photos. Nothing framed on desks or walls. It seems like an odd absence. I don’t have any photos either, but I’ve never had anything to take a picture of, nor have I ever owned a camera or a house like this, one that’s begging for a few memories and a bit of life.
    The bathroom has a glorious tub set into the floor. It’s deep and wide and I can see spa nozzles. It’s right up against the window, and the view from up this high is dizzying. Lying in that bath you’d be able to see the sky. His cabinet holds toothpaste, aftershave, deodorant and—condoms. I feel a blush creep up my neck as I survey just how many he has. Like four whole boxes of the things! I shut the cabinet with distaste, feeling even more uncomfortable. What the hell am I doing in the apartment of a 26-year-old man who I don’t know from a bar of soap? A man who is an adult with a real job, lots of money and a raging sex life? It’s about as far from where I thought I’d be four days ago as I can imagine. I am an uneducated, inexperienced child who’s never even had a friend , let alone a boyfriend.
    I walk out of the marble bathroom and into the marble kitchen. Luke is intent on his cooking, and he seems pretty good at it. He has the practiced air of someone who is at ease with food. Expensive implements are whirling, things are sizzling on the frying pan and the smell is so delectable that my mouth waters. I am intimately acquainted with hunger. Jobs at restaurants or cafés have been good because they usually come with free food. So sitting here and having him cook