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Instead of donning the clothes, I grab the worn-in fluffy robe I love off the bathroom door and slip it on. At the very least, I can give myself a little more time in comfort until he orders me into that…costume.
I open the door an inch and peer out into the kitchen. A light glows softly from the other end, so he must be awake. His voice, deep and dark, reaches me, but I have to focus on the words because his tone is too low to make out from this distance.
After a moment of craning my neck, keeping my ear at the opening, I catch the word Valentina and freeze, my fingers gripping the wood of the door so tight they ache.
Valentina.
When I’d mostly recovered, I’d only learned that she also survived the attack, but he refuses to give me anything else. Then the next time I asked about her, Kai backed me into the wall and told me not to ask again. That he’d make sure I never got to see her if I did. It was the only time I allowed myself to cry in front of him, begging him to let me go to her, but he refused, saying being near her would put everyone in danger. At the time, I hadn’t been able to tell if he thought I was a danger to her or if he meant something else. He hadn’t budged on his position, and I stopped asking to see my cousin, hoping, one day, maybe she’d come and see me. So far, she has not.
I shove down the old wave of sadness, gathering it all up with the rest of the emotions I refuse to let myself feel, and creep out of the bedroom, moving carefully, praying he’s in his room, and I can eat breakfast in peace.
Of course, I don’t have that kind of luck, and I know it. He sits at the countertop bar, the dim overhead light bouncing off the shiny surface of his hair, like it’s still wet from his shower.
I self-consciously run my hand over my braid and toss it behind my shoulder. There isn’t anything to feel self-conscious about. I’ve showered and put on clean clothes today. My soft worn-out robe doesn’t compare to the elegant lines of his ridiculously fitted suit, but I’m not the one who decided to leave this place. That’s all him, and right now, I’m petty enough to force him to deal with the consequences of that choice.
Instead of acknowledging him, I walk right by the counter and grab a bowl from the dish drainer. I can feel his eyes on me as I pour my fruit cereal into the bowl and smother it in milk.
He’d stopped talking when I came out, and I carry my bowl to the counter just in time for him to end the call and slip his phone into his suit jacket. I duck my chin and ignore him harder, plunging a spoon into my cereal to eat quickly and loudly. Maybe I can scare him off to his own room and be left in peace for a little while.
Nope. Again, no luck. “You’re not dressed.”
I finish swallowing and decide not answering might be too childish. “I’m wearing a robe. I’m dressed.”
He huffs, the noise calling me the child I feel like right now. Yet around him, I can’t help but push. “You know what I mean. I left you some clothes. Hurry up and eat, then change, so we can leave.”
I dunk my spoon in the bowl and glare at him. This earns me a glare in return, and he snakes his hand out to steal my bowl in a move so fast I don’t have time to react. “Hey!”
“Stop acting like a petulant child. Eat your food, change, then we are leaving. All I want to hear out of you is okay.”
I only glare.
“A nod will also suffice.”
Finally, I nod, and he eases my bowl toward me. I snatch it back and shovel the food down, then drink the sugary milk to chase it. Since Parker won’t be back, I wash the bowl and spoon myself, then spin to brace my hips on the counter.
“I can’t wear those clothes. They will be too tight, uncomfortable.”
He scans something on his phone, reading faster than I can, even on a good day. “I didn’t ask you to be comfortable. I only asked you to be presentable.”
“Why?”
This time when his eyes clash with mine, there’s an angry spark there. A challenge. “Now is not the time for questions. We have to leave, and we have to do it in the next hour, so if you aren’t dressed by then, I’m going to peel that robe off you and let you walk out of here naked.”
I clear my throat. “I’m not naked. I’m wearing underwear.”
His eyes shutter as he scans what he can see of my body, neck to knees. “Fine, in your underwear then. Do you really want everyone out there to see you mostly naked?”
I draw the robe around me tighter as if it can shield me from his gaze. To be honest, the thought of anyone seeing my scars—the ones Sal gave me during that last attack and some of the ones before—makes my stomach roil. The breakfast I just ate sits differently now as if it might come up at any moment. I gaze off, a flashback hitting me hard until a voice draws me back.
Kai is there, standing so close to me I can see the black flecks in his irises. His eyes look one color from far away, but standing here so close, I can see they aren’t. He’s got my robe open, his hands on my waist, skin on skin, like a baby needing the contact to thrive. “Are you back with me?”
I gulp hard and nod, barely aware as he pulls his big warm fingers away from my body. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before after months of caring for my injuries, but now that I’m healed, it’s as if he’s found every reason not to touch me unless it’s necessary.
He clears his throat and steps back. “All that white cotton is charming, but I doubt you want the entire world to see it. Go change, Rose, before I change my mind and drag you out of here just as you are.”
“Why do I have to wear that? It makes me feel like a fraud.”
He bends his knees to duck to my level, a trick to meet my eyes head-on. “Why? This was your life before. You had fine clothes, right?
