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Alize looks away from me, smoothing down her skirt. “My fatherisstrange. I don’t know much about him, myself.”
“Just that you guys moved around alot?”
She nods. I continue. “And you don’t know what he does for, er…work?”
Alize cocks her head, a small frown twisting her lips. “Is something wrong, Alexander?”
I shake my head. “No, it was just one of the things I was thinking about. How I will explain it to my father. He’s bound to ask, maybe will want to see a picture of him.”
Alize folds her arms. Have I made her too suspicious? Her hazel eyes bore a hole into mine. “I can answer his questions,” she says simply. “He’smyfather.”
Yes, he is.
And I’m fucking worried that his life is the cost of this election win. But, I swallow down that emotion bubbling in my throat. I smile, trying to play it off.
She hates him,I remind myself.
It doesn’t even have to be him.
Alize would tell me if her father was a fucking executioner.
“Since that’s settled, tell me about your day,” I say, moving to the kitchen to find a takeout menu from one of the restaurants on campus. “Have you had dinner?”
“I think I’ll skip it,” she says. “I’m not feeling so good.”
I lean over the kitchen island to see that she’s crumpled on to the sofa. “I thought you were feeling better.”
“I thought so too, but I ended up at the campus doctor today. I almost fainted after lunch.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
I storm toward her, leaning over to get a better look at her. She doesn’t look as ill as she was before. Alize swats my hand away while I’m trying to check if she still has a fever.
“It’s not a big deal,” she says. “The doctor told me I just need to get some rest and gave me some flu meds. They made me do a blood test just to be safe, but I haven’t got the results back yet.”
I stare at her for a few heartbeats. “You should still eat.”
“I don’t feel like it, Alex.” She covers her eyes with the back of her hand. “I might throw it up.”
“And I don’t give a fuck,” I respond. “You need to eat to take the medication you got.”
There’s some facetious remark on the tip of her tongue, I bet. Clearly her little rebellious streak hasn’t died.
Perfect.
I’m going to enjoy breaking it out of her.
Alize frowns, raising her hand to glare at me. She’s dressed in a soft, form-hugging dress and tights. I’m tempted to hike her skirt up to check if she has that fucking knife on her before it gives her any ideas. “I see you’re back to being an asshole.”
My grin widens. “But you’re not back to being my pliant little plaything.”
“That’s never going to happen.”
“Is that a challenge, Miss Moreau?”
She seems to realize the danger she’s in, for she pushes herself into a sitting position. I’m kneeling on the couch, hovering over her with a hand above her head. Suddenly, there’s a thick, familiar tension between us, tightening my balls.
Her plump lips are parted slightly, and there’s a tick in her jaw.
