[THIS STORY WILL BE TAKEN DOWN ON SEPTEMBER 30, 2024]
This is a collection of bonus scenes I've written over the years. Some are part of later books in the series. Some short stories are simply 'What If' scenarios. Some moments are scenes that happe...
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The marble floor was cool beneath my toes as I padded barefoot toward the entrance of my home, escorting the jerkass out of the mansion. My mother had raised me to be polite, even to assholes, like the gigantic one walking beside me.
Graysen, my intended, stalked by my side as we moved across the foyer to the grand front door. It was a light airy space. Elegant with its restraint. Decorated only in a few landscape masterpieces by John Constable and an ornate silver-framed mirror backing a flower arrangement of calla lilies and long blades of foliage sitting on an antique running table.
I was simmering with annoyance and some of it wasn't directed at Graysen. Most of it was because, yet again, I wasn't going to be accompanying my family for an outing to the opera. Instead, I'd remain here, all alone, while they all went out into the city and enjoyed themselves.
A servant opened the front door. Graysen dropped his leggy pace, allowing me to leave the mansion first, following behind like a dark shadow. He might think that I was escorting him from my home because I was being cordial and respectful. But I was only doing it just to make sure the fucking prick left.
I stepped through the threshold, leaving behind the marbled floor shot through with veins of gray onto the weatherworn terrace. The sun was winking out, staining the sky in inky tones of twilight. I inhaled the scent of spring that clung to the chilly air that caused a wash of goosebumps to prickle my flesh.
Graysen pivoted around to face me, relaxing his stance to one hip as he zipped up his leather jacket, tugging the tag right up to the banded collar. He was typically adorned in all black. He hadn't even bothered to dress accordingly for our monthly day together in a respectful suit. No, today he'd arrived on his noisy motorbike in casual attire. He'd clomped through the house in his scuffed combat boots, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that molded to his broad chest.
I'd at least dressed up in a voluminous Marc Jabocs dress, albeit without shoes. As I stood outside on the terrace I fussed with the red apron I wore over top of my dress, flicking my fingers across the front of it, brushing flour from where it had caught on the fabric. I bought the apron, especially for today's date. Across the middle it was stamped in big bold letters, 'I'm With Stupid.'
The only response it had gotten out of Graysen was an eye roll.
Today, I'd spent my time in the kitchen baking endless batches of chocolate chip cookies. I'd forced Graysen to keep me company there while I mixed flour, sugar, and butter, cracking eggs and sprinkling cups of chocolate chips into the cookie dough. Carefully scooped out spoonfuls of the dough and rounded them into shape. Sliding tray after tray into the oven, baking one batch after another as the morning shifted into the long hours of the afternoon.
My fingers swept over grains of salt streaking the pocket of my apron. In my last batch, I'd secretly switched the sugar to salt just for Graysen. I'd given him the special batch of cookies to take home in a cardboard box tied prettily with a bow. But the prick glared at me while snatching the box from my hands, and stomped off to the trash can. Dumping the cardboard box of cookies into the trash, he snarked, "I never eat sugary shit."
