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Julien winked at me again. “Thatwouldsuck. I bet Zadie would take pity on me and let me crash on her couch, though.”
Amir glared at him, but he gave him no further reaction. Still, I wanted to laugh at the impossibility of these two men having any kind of relationship, let alone the friendship that was obvious beneath their old, violently inclined, married couple bickering.
“It’s only a love seat,” I answered. “You’d have to really curl up.”
Julien and Amir both swung their attention to me. I had no idea why I spoke. It had just slipped out without meaning to. Julien shook his head, grinning. Amir was less amused.
“He’ll never set foot in your dorm.”
Julien groaned. “I think that’s my cue to exit. Don’t worry, I’ll look for your sense of humor while I’m out.” He saluted Amir, gnashed his teeth at me, then saw himself out the front door. Once he was gone, the house was chillingly silent.
That was, until the floorboards creaked as Amir advanced on me. “Do you think, as my property, you’re allowed to flirt with my friends?” He took my chin in his hand, tilting my face back.
“No.” I didn’t deny his ludicrous accusation. It seemed the less I said, the better.
His eyes flared at my clipped response. His hold on me tightened to the edge of pain. “No, what?”
“No, I’m not allowed to flirt with your friends.”
His chin lowered, and he gave me an assessing glare. “You look tired. Why haven’t you been sleeping?”
I shifted my messenger bag on my shoulder. “I’m a little bit stressed. When I have a lot on my mind, I can’t sleep.”
Amir stepped forward, slipping the bag from my shoulder and dropping it to the floor. I winced when my laptop clunked on the hardwood but kept my protests to myself.
“What’s there to think about? I own you. Your thoughts are the ones I give you.” He rubbed the thick stubble on his chin. “I can’t imagine what you’d have to worry about.”
My nose crinkled, but I dug my teeth into my bottom lip to stop myself from speaking. My silence didn’t seem to please Amir, based on his sharp intake of breath and hands balling into white-knuckled fists.
“Don’t be cute,” he uttered lowly. “It won’t make me soft on you.”
“I’m not being cute.” My hands fluttered to my chest. “I promise.”
With a groan, he walked away, hands braced on top of his head. Then he turned back, jerking his head toward the massive leather sectional. I followed him and took a seat two cushions away. Tucking my crossed ankles to the side, I smoothed my skirt along my thighs, making sure it draped over my knees. Amir watched every single one of my movements with a hardened jaw.
When the silence stretched on, I glanced around the room from beneath my lashes, and barely suppressed my gasp. Between two windows sat a beautiful upright piano. My fingers twitched, longing to play. I hadn’t had time in my schedule for a music class this semester, so the only time I could get my fix in was if I snuck into an empty class in the music building—I’d done it once and had been so nervous I almost puked—or went home to visit my parents. Needless to say, I was jonesing.
“Tell me you haven’t spoken to Elliott Schiffer.” It was a demand, not a question.
“I haven’t.” I plucked at a flower on my skirt. “He hasn’t tried to contact me either. We don’t have any classes together, and his dorm is on the opposite side of campus.”
He shook his head. “I’d be disappointed in you for giving it up to that piece of shit if I cared what you did.”
I almost rolled my eyes since it was really freaking obvious he cared what I did. I didn’t think it was because he cared aboutme. More like saw me as someone he should be able to control. I didn’t roll my eyes, though. Amir had power and I didn’t. He could crush me if he wanted to. I was banking on him not wanting to choose that path, but the odds weren’t great.
When I didn’t speak, he went on. “Here’s how this is going to go, little mama. You’re going to send me your schedule. The hours you’re not in class, you’re on call for me. Anything I need, you will jump to do it. You feel me so far?”
I nodded. I felt him way too much.
“You cook?”
I nodded again. “Yes.”
“Any good?”
“I can’t cook every type of food, but I think I’m pretty decent.”
His hand went to his chin, scrubbing as he stared at me with a pinched brow. “You’re making me dinner every night. If Julien and Marco are here, you’ll cook for them too, but you’re mine, not theirs. Clear?”
