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“Hey bitch, I was talking to you! What are you doing in Alistar House?”
I get my feet back on the floor and walk toward the screaming girl at the door. She looks pissed.
Placing her hands on her hips, she taps her stiletto heel impatiently. “Are you deaf? I said, who the hell are you?!”
“Winnie, shut the fuck up! I thought I told you to leave.” A man comes storming out of one of the other rooms, freezing at the sight of me.
Wow.His picture doesnotdo him justice. Chiseled chin with a five o'clock shadow, metallic blue eyes that I know I could get lost in, dark hair, and a body like a Greek god. Damn. Donovan Blake might just be what the doctor ordered...
Well, until he opens his mouth. “Ah, I see our little roomie has arrived. Sally, is it? As you can see, we’re in the middle of something here so I suggest turning around, staying in your room and minding your own business.”
What an ass.
“Silver. My name is Silver, and I think I’ll just stay right here. You know, since this is also my house.”
I hear this Winnie character muttering under her breath, “What kind of name is Silver? Sounds like a stripper's name.”
“Well, at least I’m not named after some annoying bear,” I reply.
“Excuseyou. I am named after one of the greatest—”
“Enough, Winnie!” Donovan shouts over her, cutting off whatever she was going to say. “Leave. I told you we were done here.”
“But baby...” she whines. God, her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. “Donovan, are you seriously kicking me out? If anyone needs to leave, it’s that bitch.”
“Now Winnie, don’t make memakeyou leave,” he growls out through clenched teeth.
Note to self—do not piss this man off. I swear, he sounds like a tiger about to attack his prey. The air becomes thick with static, making goosebumps rise on my arms. I slowly back into my room once more, grabbing my bag before sneaking into the bathroom and closing the door. If Iaccidentallyhappened to smack into Winnie on the way, so be it... Not that she noticed.
Whew, that was one intense stare down—they didn't even blink. If I didn't know any better, I would’ve thought they were having a conversation telepathically.
I set my bag next to the bathroom sink, then remove my sweaty clothes and jump in the shower. I hope whoever owns the coconut shampoo won’t mind me borrowing some. With my luck, it’s probably Mr. Asshole’s out there.
