Meet Jade Cross, New York City's infamous heartbreaker-better known as the Black Widow.
She plays with guys at her will and, once she's had her fun, leaves them with a broken heart and a red kiss at the corner of their lips-her trademark.
Her latest...
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Jade's POV
I crossed the room to my nightstand and unplugged my phone charger from the wall.
Behind me, my mother cleared her throat.
I didn't turn around immediately. Instead, I took my time winding the cable neatly around my hand before finally glancing over at her.
She stood in the doorway with both hands resting against the frame.
"Did you pack everything?"
I gave a silent nod.
"Are you sure?" she insisted. "It can get chilly in Providence, especially this time of year."
I looked back down at the charger.
"I'm sure you'll be okay," she continued after a pause. "It's a good thing you're close to the beach, though. Right?"
Still saying nothing, I crossed the room toward my bed. That was when I spotted my glasses case sitting on the table by the window, so I changed direction and went to grab it.
"Are you not going to speak to me at all?" she asked. "Is that it?"
I finally looked at her.
"What do you want me to say?"
I pressed a hand dramatically to my chest and widened my eyes.
"Oh, Mother. Whatever will I possibly do without you?"
The performance lasted all of two seconds before my face settled back into its usual blank expression.
I raised an eyebrow.
"You raised me better than to be a liar."
That landed.
Her brow tightened and she swallowed before looking away.
If I didn't know any better, I might've thought I'd actually hurt her.
But it was a little late for wounded-mother theatrics. You don't get to disappear from someone's life for years and then decide you want the role back because they're leaving.
I turned away.
The charger and glasses case went into my suitcase. I gave everything one final scan, trying to remember whether I'd forgotten anything, then zipped it shut.
When I looked back toward the doorway, she was gone.
Five whole minutes.
Impressive.
I grabbed the suitcase and headed downstairs.
The front door was already open. Mom stood outside in her robe and slippers, staring down at her phone with the kind of expression people wore when they were trying very hard not to look miserable.
