Page 64 of Lessons in Cruelty

It’s not a request. The casual authority in his voice makes something deep inside clench. I want to argue just to see what he’d do, but the pristine white carpet stops me.

“Good girl,” he murmurs when I comply, and I hate how those two words make me flush.

“Do me a favor and turn on that fireplace? It’s always so damn cold in here.”

Did he see me shiver?

I turn to the imposing wall of textured stone, throwing Bastian a panicked look.

“With the power of my mind?”

“There’s a control panel to the right. Just press the power button.”

I pad over to the fireplace, my entire body coming alive at the feel of the thick, fluffy carpet under my toes.

Even college professors are better off in this hellhole than Riversiders.

As much as I want to lean into that spiteful thought, I’m enjoying myself too much. Even trying to figure out the control panel Bastian directed me to is fun.

I stab experimentally at a button. There’s a whoosh beside me, and I hear Bastian chuckle from the kitchen as I fall on my ass, trying to get away from the sudden burst of flames.

Dramatic, sure, but I almost lost my fucking eyebrows.

Bastian’s chuckle from the kitchen is dark, amused. “Careful, Miss Lee. Wouldn’t want to add third-degree burns to your injuries.”

My lips tighten.

He’s like a dog with a fucking bone.

I’d forgotten about my bruises. Forgotten briefly about Kai.

Why is it so easy to live a lie when I’m around this man?

I stay seated on the carpet, holding my hands out to the flames as they flicker along the large gray pebbles placed just-so on the hearth. What the hell is burning in there? Gas?

Bastian is so quiet that I peek at him over my shoulder. He has his head down, staring into the pot on the stove.

I can’t help it. I’m curious as hell about this guy, and he’s basically set me loose in his little fiefdom. Who wouldn’t spy?

Standing, I wait to see if Bastian will notice before ambling innocently to the bookshelf beside one of the enormous wall-to-ceiling windows. I don’t know if I want to stare at the view or browse his collection of leather-bound books, but I tell myself the forest will always be there, and doesn’t require a key and an invitation to view.

A minute later, I feel seventy-five times more inferior than I did when I first walked into Bastian’s house. The books on these dark shelves are dense. If Bastian’s gas ever got cut off, he could easily burn a handful of these babies for heat.

My eyes wander lower. The titles down there hint at philosophy, psychology, science. A lot of “Human” this and “Mind” that.

Then there’s this row of slim, almost invisible books right at the bottom. Dark spines. A collection of some kind. Fifty, maybe more.

I tug one out.

ACTIVI—

“Shouldn’t you wait until I’m in the other room before you start snooping?”

I shove the notebook back in its place. His voice is right behind me. Close enough that I feel his breath on my neck.

How did he move so quietly?

I spin around, giving my lips a quick lick. “I wasn’t⁠—“