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“Who?” he asked, looking confused.
“The people that you have to tell about Vince. Is it those guys in the poker game? They didn’t seem that bad.”
Alejandro started muttering something. “Pequeña, you need a damn keeper.”
18
A keeper?
She didn’t need a keeper.
Alejandro held out a chair for her at the massive dining table, and she sat before staring down at her bandaged fingers. She might need someone to feed her if Alejandro didn’t want her to spill her food everywhere.
“I really don’t think it was necessary to bandage my hands up just because I bit my nails down too far.”
“There was blood. Your fingertips looked raw and sore. The bandages stay on.”
“I look like a mummy.”
“It’s only your fingers that are bandaged. Don’t like it, then don’t hurt yourself again.”
Urgh, he was so infuriating.
She hadn’t been hurting herself. Well, okay, it hurt. But she’d been doing it because she was stressed and anxious and exhausted.
“It’s my body.”
“Not while you are under my roof. It is my body to take care of.”
“Great job of that so far,” she muttered. She winced after saying that.
When would she learn to keep her mouth shut? The last thing she needed to do was provoke him. Right now, no one knew where she was. She was completely reliant on Alejandro.
If he wanted to get rid of her for good . . . she swallowed heavily.
Seriously.
Why could she never think stuff through before she said it?
Finally, the silence got to be too much and she looked at him. His face was solemn as he leaned back in his chair.
Honestly, it could have been a throne with how he was sitting there.
Indolent. Arrogant. Sexy
The king of the underworld. And God help anyone who crossed him.
What had she been thinking coming here? Getting close to him?
You were thinking that he might have answers. And that you were desperate.
Desperate enough to take on the underworld’s ruler and think you might come out unscathed.
She was delusional.
“You are right,” he said in a deep voice.
“Wh-what?” That wasn’t what she expected him to say.
“I haven’t done a decent job of taking care of you. That’s going to change. From now until you leave my care, I’ll be watching you far more closely. It’s obvious you need it.” He ran his gaze over her.
She knew she looked a mess. He’d found a robe for her to cover herself up since he didn’t want her showering until she’d eaten.
It was obviously his. It felt expensive. And she could wrap it around herself twice.
And it smelled faintly like him, which, weirdly, made her feel safe.
Although she wouldn’t have pegged him as the robe-wearing type.
“I really don’t need anyone to look after me.” Each word was becoming harder and harder to say. She was so exhausted.
Why did the room keep moving? It was like she was on the deck of a ship.
“Well, unfortunately for you, you don’t get any say in what I do.”
Her mouth dropped open.
This guy. He was . . . he was unbelievable!
Before she could protest, though, Bernie came in, carrying a tray of food, which he set on the side table.
Shit. They had this huge dining table, and instead, they had to get up and go to the side table to grab food?
That wasn’t cool.
Especially as she was likely to trip up over the robe . . . or her own feet.
He disappeared, and Alejandro poured her a glass of water and another of orange juice.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather have more coffee.”
“You can have more coffee after you drink your water and juice,” he countered.
“Are you trying to get between me and my caffeine? I’ve cut people for less.”
All right, that was blatantly untrue. She’d never cut a person in her life and wouldn’t do it over caffeine.
She blamed her murderous thoughts on going more than a day without coffee. It just wasn’t right. It was reworking her brain.
“Sir?” Bernie asked, sounding worried. She hadn’t noticed him returning with another tray of food. How much had he cooked? “Shall I remove the knife from her?”
Huh?
She glanced down at her hand to find a knife in her left hand. Weird. She couldn’t even remember picking it up.
Alejandro sighed. “She’s not going to cut me, Bernard.”
“Certainly not with a butter knife,” she commented. “I’d need something much sharper to slice through skin.”
Both men were staring at her now.
“Sir?” Bernard asked.
Alejandro shook his head. “It’s fine. She’s hungry and tired. That’s all.”
“And caffeine deprived. That can make a person feel murderous.” She glared at Bernie.
“Do you want anything else, sir?” Bernard asked.
“No, gracias, Bernard.”
Bernard nodded and gave her a look of disapproval before leaving. There were three trays of food on the side table with covers over them to keep them warm.
“I really need that coffee.”
“Then you need to drink some water,” he countered.
“You know, if a person was motivated, they probably could cut you with this knife.”
