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“The story of our relationship.” He glanced at me with a look saying that should be obvious.
I choked on my last bite. “What relationship?”
“The relationship she thinks we have.” With a sigh, he rolled out his hand. “Remember, I led her to believe we were dating. The first moment she saw us together, we were kissing.”
Okay, the kiss I remembered. When it struck me what he was saying, I shrieked, “Oh my God. We have to keep up that ruse? Are you serious? Why?”
“Because it’s safer that way.”
“But if your mom—?”
“Dear God.” He winced and held up a hand. “Don’t ever call her that to me again.”
“What?” I asked, confused. “Your mom?”
With another shudder, he hissed a teeth-gritted grimace in my direction. “Yes. The very word denotes a sweet, loving lady who actually cares for her children. And that is not at all the soul-sucking viper who gave birth to me.”
“Okay,” I
said slowly. “Then what do I call her?”
“Satan worked fine. Continue using that.”
I sent him a dry glance.
He sighed. “Her name’s Lana. That’s what I call her when I have to call her anything.”
“All right. Whatever. So why would it be safer to act like a couple for Lana, then?”
The question seemed to startle him. “Excuse me, but would you rather let her know we lied to her the first moment you two met? While she’s already dangling the security of your job over your head?”
I gulped. Okay, he might have a point there.
“Besides,” he went on. “If she thinks you’re important to me, she won’t immediately destroy you. She’ll keep you around and slowly toy with you, like a cat would a desperate, trapped mouse.”
I made a face. “Well, that doesn’t exactly sound pleasant, either, you know.”
“Probably won’t be,” he answered easily. “So, it’s up to you. Do you want to come clean to her, let her know you’re no one to me and we only met in her apartment while you were stealing from her, risking her wrath and the possibility that she’ll most likely call the police on you immediately to get you tossed into jail for trespassing on her property? Or do you want a slim chance to escape her cruel clutches before she crushes you by pretending you’re an important, integral part of her not-so-beloved son’s life?”
“Um.” Honestly, neither option sounded all that appealing.
Damn, I had really broken into the wrong apartment, hadn’t I?
Going with the least unpleasant choice, I said, “Door number two, I guess. But what’s in this for you?”
He glanced at me, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—” I lifted my eyebrows significantly. “I’m obviously doing this to avoid being fired. Or—” I winced. “Possible jail time. But what do you get from pretending to be my boyfriend?”
Clarifying my question only seemed to confuse him more. “Why, I’ll get to spend more time in your lovely company,” he finally said. Then smirked. “What more could a man ask for?”
“I’m being serious,” I muttered, irritated because I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
“And I thought I explained all this the other night,” he snapped back irritably.
Gone was his casual, flirty sarcasm and unflappable demeanor. The man did not like his good deeds to be questioned.
“I just—” I started, but he cut me off briskly.
