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“Love that for you. Why am I here?” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“Do you know who I am?” That look flashes again.
“Nope.”
“You’re lying, little one.”
Her gaze is positively deadly. We stare at each other for a while.
“Why am I here?” she asks again.
I answer honestly. “Because my men didn’t know what else to do with you. They aren’t used to finding female Bratva soldiers. Though Jimmy probably wishes he just shot you instead.”
“That the blond guy?” she asks.
I nod.
“How about the guy with the red beard? I don’t think he likes me very much either.”
“Patrick. I haven’t seen him that pissed off in years actually.”
She snorts.
“And that was before you hit him in the balls.”
She shrugs.
“What’s your name?”
“Hermione Granger.”
“You’re lying again, little one.”
Thelittle onepart irritates her. Good.
“Fine. Ms. Granger, if you’d like to gather your wand, they are serving supper in the dining hall with the rest of Gryffindor.” I sweep my arm toward the door and lay on as much sarcasm as I can without laughing. I see the smallest trace of a smirk appear. Then it’s gone.
She doesn’t move toward the door or acknowledge my offer. However, her stomach then releases a loud growl. She looks down at her abdomen as if she’s sincerely disappointed in the organ. I open the door and stand in the hallway, waiting for her. She stares at me for several seconds before she gives in and follows me out. She looks both ways in the hall and seems surprised that we are alone. She gives me a quizzical look, which makes me smirk.No, little one, I’m not afraid of you.
I’d had the boys drop her in one of the spare bedrooms on the opposite side of the penthouse from my suite. I lead her down the hallway, not checking to see if she’s following. We step into the large kitchen. I gesture to a set of stools on one side of the granite island. She walks over to it and hops up. It occurs to me how tiny she is. She’s got to be all muscle for the way she defended herself against Jimmy. I wish the clothes on her weren’t so baggy, or that I’d had the good sense not to leave her pants.
I pull a bottle of water from the fridge and give it to her. She accepts it, appears pleased when she feels the plastic seal break.
“Do you have any allergies?” I ask her.
“Um, what?”
“Allergies, to food. I’m going to make you something to eat.”
“Oh. Um, no. Thank you.” That she is a little flustered makes me pleased. I start pulling ingredients out of the pantry and fridge. I can always make grilled cheese sandwiches and Alfredo pasta on demand. I go with the Alfredo, dumping chopped garlic into a pan with butter. I can feel her watching me as I start pouring cream into the pan.
“Will you start the water to boil for the pasta?” I point to the hanging pot rack above her head. She pauses, unsure, and then selects a pot, fills it with water, and sets it on the stove.
“Stop looking at the knives, Hermione.”
She blushes slightly, having been caught eyeballing my butcher block.
“Parmesan is in the fridge,” I tell her. She doesn’t hesitate this time, going to the fridge and bringing it back to me. I also notice the beer in her other hand.Bad girl.
