Demir
He’s staying in the apartment. He’s going to sleep in Geneva’s bed for the next few days. The guy just paraded his way through the front door like he owned the place, threw his bag on the floor in the kitchen and collapsed in the bedroom with not a care in the world.
Geneva doesn’t seem to mind. When it comes to the human, she’s acting like a mother hen, just shrugging at me when I raise a brow in my amusement at her fussing around the kitchen.
While he sleeps, she cooks for him, arranges the small dining table for him, puts a damn candle and prepares a bottle of red wine. I am standing by the door, like the guard dog that I am, hating how her cat is now in the bedroom with that man, instead of lurking around me and trying to win my sympathies.
I know I have to talk to her, to ha
