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Whatever I’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that, and call me crazy, Jesus, call me insane, but that made my heart flop around in my chest.
In a day, the guy had flown home, took out my father’s kneecaps to make him pay for putting his hands on me, protecting me from the monster in my life like no one else could, and then he went and said that?
I was a broodmare.
That was my job in life. My role.
And yet, here he was, treating me like a woman.Like a person.Not just a walking womb.
Fuck.
Maybe someone else wouldn’t get it, but I couldn’t stop the tears from prickling my eyes. It was stupid. So stupid.
So fucking stupid.
But a quivery breath escaped me as I stared down at the ragu, which was a big, fat blur.
I knew he hadn’t seen my reaction, because he’d headed into the fridge like he hadn’t just rocked my goddamn world, then muttered, “What’s your sister’s number?”
“Why?” I asked after I’d swiped my hand over my face. Tears were still thick in my throat as I tried to formulate an expression that was close to normal. Turning to look at him, I found one way to switch gears…
His butt.
Yum.
“Because I want to know when he’s awake.” He peered at me over his shoulder, and evidently caught me staring at his ass in those obscenely tight boxer briefs, because he smirked at me.
“Why?”
“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”
“Probably why he punished me more than my other sisters.”
He tipped his head to the side at that. “Other sisters? How many do you have? I thought you only had one.”
“Father wished he had other kids. Preferably a son,” I muttered.
“Why? Not the son part. That’s standard. What happened to your sister?”
“She rebelled,” I told him simply. “She’s six years older than me. But the last I heard, she lives with an MC as some kind of…” My brow puckered, distaste filling me at what I knew of the life.
“Clubwhore?”
That he surmised as much from my expression didn’t altogether surprise me. Men of his stature had access to such women, but it pissed me off that my sister was a whore.
“Yeah.”
“Which MC?”
I scowled at him. “Why do you want to know?”
He finally retreated from the fridge, pressed into the wall at its side after he found a glass, and did the unthinkable—drank from the glass.
Not a bottle.
He even put the toilet seat down.
I wasn’t sure if Ihadmarried an alien. Far as I knew, men weren’t good at that stuff.
