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I level him with a look. “Aren’t you always?”
He gives me a mischievous smile. “You didn’t text me back yesterday.”
“So you show up with flowers for my co-worker today?”
“Do you want some, too?” I ignore him and he steps even closer, his body almost touching mine. “No,” he whispers, mouth hovering near my ear. “I know the types of gifts you like. Do you need me to round another one up?”
“I don’tneedanything from you.”
He steps back, studying me, his face etched with anger. “Don’t say that,” he says through gritted teeth. “Because you know it’s bullshit. You do need me, even if you don’t know why yet. You fucking need me, Quintin.”
My spine stiffens at the use of my name out in public. I narrow my eyes at him. “Why did you ask Willow out?”
His frustration morphs into a confusion. “What? She askedmeout.”
“It’s not really a vase, but it’ll work,” Willow says, coming from the back with a tall, plastic Tupperware dish filled with flowers. “At least until I get home. Fucking Chad wouldn’t let me use one of the many pots we have around here unless I pay for it.”
We both look at her as she places them on her desk. I glance back at Kaspian. His confusion seemed real, but I’m not sure what the hell isreallyreal about this guy.
I did some more research on him after I left his house Saturday night. His name brings nothing up anywhere, which leads me to believe it’s not his birth name.
The picture I found makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up when I think about it. I could look into this further. I could maybe find out a little more information, but it requires doing what I’ve told myself I’d never do.
Someone clearing their throat drags me out of my thoughts. It’s Kaspian. He’s watching me with curiosity.
He knows who I am. He knows more about me than I thought I did. More than I’ve told him. It’s only fair that I know more about him too. I have to do it. I have to know who I’m up against.
Kaspian
ChapterTwenty-Three
Something’s wrong. Different. I can feel it.
Ezra’s always had a cool detachment. His wariness around me was something I understood because I never know what to expect from him either.
But now, there’s something else. He looks at me with even more distrust. His confusion is back. Before, it seemed as if he had gotten over the curiosity of why I am the way I am. I figured he came to terms with the fact that some people are messed up.
There’s no way he could’ve figured out what brought me to him, and if he did, he would’ve said something, right?
No. He’s too calculated for that.
I’ll have to worry about that later. Right now, I have to focus on this Willow situation.
After I gave her the flowers and talked for a few minutes, I went back to work and started to do some plotting.
* * *
I gothe whole week without hearing from Ezra, which isn’t too surprising. I’m usually the one who has to reach out first. However, I haven’t done that. While I worry he may be at home planning my murder, I have more pressing issues to be concerned about.
Twice this week, I see Willow. On Wednesday, she showed up to my job to upgrade her phone. On Thursday evening, I ran into her at the grocery store. She was picking up wine and popcorn for a thrilling movie night with friends planned for Friday evening. I know that was the truth, because I watched the friends show up to her house that night.
Saturday, I knock on Ezra’s door.
“Morning, sunshine,” I greet.
He doesn’t look amused. “It’s two-thirty in the afternoon.”
I shrug and blow hot air into my hands. “Kinda cold out here.”
