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“I’m so sorry,” I say, taking his hand. He helps me to my feet like I weigh nothing. “I—I wasn’t expecting you. I thought it was Alexander.”
I cover my mouth wishing I could stuff the words back in. This guy is Alexander’s best friend. I maybe shouldn’t be telling him that I was planning to stab him.
Vance chuckles. “He does tend to have that effect on people.”
He crouches down and plucks the knife from the ground. The sun streaming through the window in the hallway picks up the brilliance of the gems, and it shines like fire.
“Nice dagger,” he says, handing it back to me. “Sneak attacks are better though. If you want to attack him, you have to do it when he’s not expecting it. If he was at the door, I’m pretty sure he would be able to evade you too.” He folds his arms across his chest, smirking.
I narrow my eyes. “Why are you telling me this?” If Alexander’s friends are anything like him, they can’t be trusted.
He’s oblivious to my suspicions. He shoves his hands in the pocket of his slacks with a shrug. “Alexander’s a pain in my ass too. I can’t get away with stabbing him, but you can.” A laugh tears from him.
I find myself laughing along with him. “Right.”Get awayis a loose term. I’m paying for it all right now—I’m confined to this apartment with no prospects of leaving, after all.
Speaking of Alexander…
“Why are you here?” I ask.
Vance leans against the paneled-wood wall of the hallway, right between two of the ancient looking paintings. He raises an eyebrow. “Alexander didn’t tell you?”
Tell me what?I shake my head slowly.
“I’m one of your new babysitters. He’s away for a bit.”
“Babysitter?” I put a hand on my hip, ignoring the emptiness that appears in my chest at the latter part of his sentence. Why wouldn’t he tell me he was leaving?
Why does it matter?Do you miss him?
No. I don’t.
“Well, maybe not babysit you. More like, keep an eye out for you.” His eyes widen, then he says. “Oh I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Vance, by the way. Vance Du Pont.” He gives me a broad smile, and I can see how girls get dazzled by it.
He definitely looks like the kind of athlete that would have his own group of rabid, crazed fans who don’t care about the sport—only that he’s hot.
“I know,” I say. “Nya and I are friends.” I choose to say that instead of reminding him that we literally took a trip together just a few weeks ago. Granted, we didn’t speak much at the time, but I saw him. I know who he is.
There’s a brief flash ofsomethingon his face. Surprise? Anger? I can’t be sure because he turns his head away from me, looking at one of the paintings on the far end of the wall.
When he faces me again, his face is impassive.
“How about we get some breakfast?”
My stomach joins the conversation then, rumbling so loud I’m sure he hears it. I narrow my eyes. Was this Alexander’s plan, then? To convince his friend to get me to eat so that he can say he’s won? I fold my arms, planting my feet in the ground.
“Is this what Alexander sent you here for? To force me to eat?” I say.
Vance starts to smile. “Aren’t you hungry?”
My stomach growls again, this time even louder.
Clearly, it has a mind of its own and is determined to embarrass me in front of Vance. I won’t let it win. This is about more than just food—it’s about getting what I want from Alexander.
If he cares enough to take my freedom and have his friend keep me safe, then he will care when I end up in the hospital from starvation. Then he’ll leave me the fuck alone when he realizes it’s all his fault.
“I’m protesting,” I say.
He’s holding back a laugh. “Protesting what? Living conditions?”
