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Chapter Eleven
Zadie
Julienwaskeepingaclose watch on me. He’d done the same when I came back to the house the day before, sitting in the kitchen with me the whole time I cooked. He was cute and needy and it made me laugh.
“I want you to teach me how to make biscuits,” he announced, raking hungry eyes over the steaming biscuits I’d just taken from the oven.
I arched a brow. “Do you? If you know how to make them, why should I keep coming to make them for you?”
He snapped his fingers. “Good point, Princess Z. ’Cause I know nothing I make is ever going to live up to your cooking, even if I learn from the master herself.”
I bit back a grin. “So, you want to remain helpless?
“Hell yes I do. I think I’m going to hire you next semester.”
I walked to the island where he was sitting, propping a hip on the stool next to him, and waved my wooden spoon. “Or we could just be friends. I like to cook for my friends. You may or may not know this about me, but I don’t actually have aspirations of becoming a housekeeper or personal chef.”
I thought he’d laugh, but he gave me a close inspection, sweeping over my face and the hand holding the spoon.
“You’d wanna be my friend after all this?”
I lifted a shoulder. “We’ll see. You have a couple months to win me over. Sometimes I don’t like you very much, you know.”
My blunt honesty surprised even me. When I first met Julien, I’d been intimidated. He was just as devastatingly attractive as Amir and Marco. His shaggy, sandy hair, sharply carved features, and crystalline green eyes would have sent most girls’ hearts into overdrive. I wasn’t immune, and guys who looked like him always drove me deep into my shell. But over the last couple weeks, he’d shown me a kindness that had caught me off guard, dragging me right back out of my shell. I still found him devastatingly attractive, but I wasn’t attracted to him. I didn’t wonder what his lips felt like or how his hands would feel on my body. He was just Julien. Hot, friendly, Julien. Unless he was doing Amir’s bidding. Those were times Ireallydidn’t like him.
Julien winced at my answer. “No doubt I’ll give you more reasons to hate me as time goes by.”
“I don’t hate anyone, not really.”
He scratched his chin, shooting me a crooked grin. “You don’t hate Amir?”
I shook my head. God, if I were to hate anyone, it would be...okay…well, Drew would be on top of the list, but Amir would be there somewhere too.
“No. My mind tends to go more toward fear than hate. That’s just how I work.”
“Are you scared of Amir?” he asked.
I was...a lot of things when it came to Amir. I didn’t hate him, not at all. Everything I felt for him was so mixed up and swirled together, it was impossible to sort the fear from the longing from the desire from the anger. I couldn’t think straight when it came to him. He’d pushed me down to my knees and rubbed his dick on my lips without my permission, but he’d also held me through a panic attack and promised to protect me. And when I first came to him, I’d known he would, even though we’d only met once. There in my room, the hours we were stuck together, I saw the kind of man he was. Captor and savior all rolled into one.
“Sometimes I’m scared, yeah.” I tapped the spoon on his arm. “Why are you so interested in how I feel about Amir?”
“I’d like to know that too.”
I whipped around, finding Amir leaning one shoulder on the doorjamb, his arms folded over his chest, a hint of a frown marring his otherwise impassive face. His dark, stormy gaze flicked from Julien to me, his brow furrowing until there was a deep crevice down the center.
“Curious, dude,” Julien replied. “Next, we can talk about Marco, then circle back to me again.”
I turned back to him, and he winked at me, which made me roll my eyes.
“Remember how I said I don’t like you sometimes? This is one of those times,” I hissed.
Julien laughed at my hissing like I was a tiny, cute kitten. Amir didn’t laugh, but then, he rarely did. At least not when I was around. He stalked into the kitchen, straight to me, and braced one hand on the back of my stool, the other on the counter in front of me, boxing me in.
“Since I missed the beginning of the conversation, why don’t you enlighten me, Zadie?” Amir’s hisswaseffective. Voice dropped low, he sounded like a sleek jungle cat preparing to pounce.
I tipped my head back to meet his midnight eyes. “I told Julien I don’t hate you but sometimes I’m afraid of you. I don’t think that’s a secret.”
“No.” He slowly shook his head. “A couple days ago, we discussed how youshouldbe afraid of me.” He picked up one of the ringlets that had formed around my face from the steam while I was cooking. “But I’m surprised to hear you don’t hate me. I would hate being someone’s property.”
