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“I want those!” I say without an ounce of shame. If this is my last meal, I’ll die happy after having these.
His lips curve into the devil’s smile as he hands me the plate.
Not bothering to use the fork, I throw the first piece in whole. When the sugary taste explodes in my mouth, my non-ladylike behaviour becomes the least of my concerns. The divine flavour transports me elsewhere.
Aaron doesn’t move away. I can feel his eyes on me, but I pay him no attention as I devour half the plate in record time.
“Where did you get these?” I ask between bites.
His lips twitch into something similar to a smile, but not exactly. It’s an almost-smile, like Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa’s. As if his mind forbids his facial muscles from expressing whatever’s inside him. “Is your silence stri
ke over already?”
I purse my lips. “Obviously.”
“It lasted less than two minutes. That must be a record.”
“Stop rubbing it in, would you?”
He raises an eyebrow but says nothing.
Sadist bastard. He enjoys putting people down and crowning himself as the invincible dominator. I wish I could slap that smug haughtiness off his aristocratic face.
But I can’t. If I want to survive him— and darkness— then I need to be on his good side.
I pick up the fork to eat the remaining chocolate cake pieces. “How can you spend a long time without talking?”
“Nonessential talk isn’t part of my routine.”
“It’s called conversing. I don’t know how a person is physically able to stay quiet for a long period. You’re weird.”
“In my book, you’re the strange one, little lamb.”
I stop chewing at the bizarre soft tone. There is no harshness or a hint of arrogance whatsoever. I swallow the contents filling my mouth before I revert my gaze his way.
His face is, as usual, an unreadable blankness. But his eyes lose some of their deadliness, softening a little in the corners.
Well, well, well. That’s a first.
“Why do you think I’m strange?” I whisper as if afraid a louder voice will break the moment.
“Can you keep a secret, Mae?” His eyes go back to their emotionless state.
“Yeah, sure. It’s not like I’ll tell the walls or something.”
Ugh. I should stop with the smart-arse remarks.
His neutral expression doesn’t change. His hand, with the unique ring on it, makes a beckoning sign.
I put the plate on the bed and stand on my knees, my neck reaching out to where he stands.
His fresh breath tickles my skin before his deep voice whispers in my ear, “I dislike people who ask lots of questions.”
He steps back, leaving me dumbfounded.
What. The. Hell? Was that his way to warn me off?
Well, screw him.
