Page 143 of Lessons in Cruelty

There’s a small table near the front door, probably for keys. I didn’t notice it when I came in because when Bastian is close, the rest of the world fades away.

There’s a pink gift bag on the table, pale tissue paper spilling from the top. The packaging looks a lot cheaper than what’s on his desk in the study.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” I say, more sourly than I’d intended.

Bastian blinks like he’s coming out of a daydream, and frowns. “Excuse me?”

I point with my chin.

He glances over his shoulder and then turns back to me with a wide smile. “Well, fuck.” He chuckles. “I completely forgot.”

“…Who the gift was for?” I say dryly as I take another sip of wine. How many girlfriends does Professor Rooke have? Man as handsome as him? As wealthy as him? I’m surprised there isn’t a line out the door.

My glass is almost empty, and I’m wondering if I’d be tempting fate to pour another.

I don’t feel drunk yet. I think I’d like to.

“Careful of that sharp tongue.” He drains his glass as he stands. “You wouldn’t want to cut yourself.”

There’s a laugh in his voice, so I giggle. But as he walks to the door, cold sweeps through my body. Instead of taking his seat, Bastian brings the gift bag to me where I’m sitting, stopping so close to the sofa that I’d probably kick him if I tried to swing my legs over to stand.

“For me?” I squeak, staring at the bag like there’s a snake in it.

“Why else would I be giving it to you?”

“I dunno.” I reach for it, and Bastian swaps it for my wineglass. “Maybe you want my opinion? If it’s like, for your girlfriend or something.”

Oh. My. God. Haven.

Why the fuck did you just say that?

Bastian holds onto the strap for a moment, forcing me to look up at him. “You know I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“How would I know?”

“I’d have mentioned her by now?” There’s this curl to his mouth, but it’s not a smile. Maybe it’s condescension? If my brain wasn’t so muddled, I could think straight.

I put on my haughtiest voice. “I mean, forgive me for assuming, but it’s not like totally outside the realm of possibility.”

I tug on the gift bag because I’m curious as hell, and he won’t let go. Is it candy? Chocolates? Oh God, what if it’s something academic, like a book? I’m going to be really disappointed if it’s a book.

“It totally kinda is,” Bastian says dryly.

My mouth falls open, but then he laughs and finally lets go of the bag.

“I live a nomadic life,” he says as he heads to the kitchen. “This is my thirteenth house. Tenth town. It’s a lot, asking someone to uproot their lives every few years.”

“This house doesn’t seem very nomadic,” I call out. “Looks kinda permanent to me.”

“You’re right. I’m trying a radical new approach. I’m hoping that sticking around in the same place for a few years might attract a mate.”

I’m listening, I swear, but I’m far more interested in rifling through this tissue paper like a pig hunting for truffles.

What if it is truffles? Like the chocolate kind?

God, now my mouth is watering.

I hear clinks and glugs in the kitchen, but I finally found something. A smooth tube that I pull out with a big smile on my face⁠—