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The only reason he trusts me with Diablo is because he knows my father. My father worked for him for ages and was loyal. That has to have something to do with it, I’m sure.
“Then it might be best if we kept this between us. If anyone needs to come out, you can send Casey.”
Anthony considers it for a moment. “I’ll keep in touch. Keep your phone on you and don’t let him out of your sight.”
“Do you want to speak to him?”
He clears his throat then pauses, the silence almost deafening. I see Diablo beneath me holding his breath.
“No.”
He hangs up, the sound of beeping lingering sadly in my ear.
My eyes remain focused on Diablo who is blinking up at me. He looks sleepy and rumpled. My body shifts ever so slightly toward him.
“He didn’t want to speak to me, did he?” he asks, sounding so fucking disappointed. Perhaps this early in the morning his shields aren’t up like they usually are. Perhaps he’s let his guard down in this moment and is, for once, showing me how he truly feels.
I don’t answer—don’t know what to say.
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t care,” he says, trying to move away from me, but my leg presses him down harder.
I don’t know why, but I want to make him feel better and before I can stop myself, the words spill out. “I don’t know why he acts this way, but he does love you.”
Diablo rolls his eyes and smacks at my thigh.
“You don’t need to reassure me. I know he loves me. Well…as much as he can, anyways.”
“Okay, but does he ever show you?”
He rolls his eyes again, but I see the flutter in his lashes, see the shifting of his irises.
“I don’t need to be shown. Iknowit. That’s all that matters, and I’m not discussing this with you.”
I hold him down just a few more seconds and then let him go. He tumbles out of bed and stomps out into the other room. I watch him go, that small ass disappearing around the corner.
Flopping onto my back, I stare at the peeling ceiling above me. How the fuck did I get here? And why the hell do I feel this way? It has to be a bit of insanity, some kind of delirium. Perhaps Diablo is poisoning my food. Perhaps I am in the Matrix. Inception? Who fucking knows, but it’s there and it’s not going away.
It’s only when I hear the cabinets slamming in the other room that I pull myself out of bed, shove my feet into shoes and walk toward the noise. When I enter the kitchen, I see the mess Diablo has made. Cereal lines the counter and the floor, his hand in the box, crumbs lining his mouth.
“What the hell are you doing?” I grumble.
He ignores me, shoving more cereal into his mouth as he pulls down a bowl. As he sets it on the counter, it misses and topples onto the floor with a loud, vibrant crash. The ceramic shatters this way and that, creating a hazard almost immediately.
My eyes stare at it and then slowly move up to meet his smug gaze. I don’t know if he did this on purpose or if he’s just that much of a hot mess. I’m thinking both.
“Get the broom and sweep this up before you cut your feet.”
When he doesn’t move to do as I say, I walk toward the side of the fridge where the broom is stuffed. The mess crunches under me, crumbs and glass all sticking to the bottoms of my shoes—shoes I’d wisely put on after learning my lesson with Diablo.
When I hand the old rickety broom to him, he takes it. I should have known he was obeying far too easily because as soon as I turn my back, he jogs to the backdoor, yanks it open and tosses it outside. I hear it clatter and come to a stop on the porch, the entire room seemingly silent as the two of us just breathe.
My lips turn down and my heart rate picks up. I swear that this guy is making my blood pressure rise. But I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t also excite me.
“If you want it clean, you do it,” he finally says.
His lips twitch, his hands clenching near his sides. Little brat. He loves this. Loves being a pain in the ass.
Is this how he got attention from his father growing up…being an obstinate brat? It’s hard to ignore him when he’s like this, I’ll give him that.
