“You’re stalling.”
His icy voice shoots through me.
I jump and spin around, eyes wide. “I— I was just… looking for a toothbrush.” I point stupidly to my mouth. “Morning breath.”
Why the hell am I like this?
He narrows his eyes. Flicks a glance at the counter beside me.
I follow it, and there it is. A brand new toothbrush, sitting beside another one.
Fuck.
I force a smile, trying not to show the way my pulse is slamming. “Didn’t see it. Sorry. I’ll just… be a minute.”
“Sure.” He tilts his head, unreadable. “I’ll wait.” He nods toward the toothbrush. “Go on.”
I grit my teeth. Of course I get an audience for this.
I brush. Fuming. Plotting. Dying a little inside. And then I follow him out, straight into whatever hell he has waiting for me. Maybe I’ll find something in another room. A forgotten drawer. Somewhere he’s not watching.
Yeah, right.
Who the fuck am I kidding? He’salwayswatching.
I roll my eyes at his back — all hard muscle and perfect posture, like Michelangelo himself came back from the dead just to sculpt him into a masterpiece.
“Stop rolling your eyes.”
I freeze.
What. The. Fuck.
How did he—?
I stare at him like he just grew a second head. He doesn’t even glance back. Just sighs, tilts his head toward the ceiling like he’s begging the gods for patience, then lifts a lazy hand and points at the wall.
“There’s a mirror.”
Then he walks off. As if he didn’t just casually flex his supernatural abilities at me.
I’m still standing there, halfway to combustion, running through my shrinking list of options when his voice cracks through the air like a whip.
“Adora!”
I jump and scurry after him like a chastised dog. God, I hate how rattled I am. I’m twitchy. Jumpy. A live wire with no insulation. My head’s all over the place — this upcoming conversation, that dungeon nightmare, the fact that I let him touch me, that I wanted him to. That it felt so fucking good I want to do it again.
I’m unraveling. Fast.
We walk into a kitchen, and I nearly stop breathing.
Granite countertops. Stainless steel appliances. Clean lines, warm lighting. In a nutshell, expensive minimalism that screamsmoneyin a whisper.
I spin around, eyes finally drinking in the place. This house is massive and luxurious.
When the hell did he get this?
I guess crime really does pay. And it pays in high-end countertops and custom cabinetry.
