He grips his glass so hard that his knuckles turn white, his eyes tired and slightly bloodshot, and I wonder when I started having a thing for men who look like they are on the verge of a mental breakdown.
I walk over to him and have to shove him aside, because he’s obstructing my way to the fridge. I swear he growled when I touched him, like a misbehaving dog.
With a pre-made sandwich on a plate in my hand, I stroll back towards the other end of the kitchen island, climbing on one of the bar stools. I would rather eat on the couch, but it’s easier to watch James from here. He’s still standing there, sipping on his whiskey, unmoving. Not speaking a word, so, like the nice person I am, I try to jumpstart a conversation.
“I’m missing a thong. It’s black, lacy. Did you see it?”
His eyes get wide for a second and this time he’s the one who chokes on his drink. He gets himself back under control way quicker than I expected and stares at me as if he wants to shoot daggers right through my skull. I still look at him all innocently, munching away on my sandwich.
Cheddar and cucumber, my favorite, closely followed by something that requires goat cheese, fig jam, dried tomatoes, and too much time to assemble for a quick breakfast. I should make one of those for James. I’m pretty sure he’d like it. On the other hand, I’ve seen him eating a whole loaf of bread with nothing on top.
“No. But I saw the garbage dump that you call your room. Maybe you’d find your shit if you cleaned up for once,” he says.
“I need to buy new stuff anyway. And since I’m not allowed to go anywhere alone and you’re my bodyguard—”
“No.”
“But you didn’t even let me finish?”
“I don’t need to. You’re not allowed to go out.”
“Please.” I put on the biggest puppy eyes I can manage. Ineedto go to the mall, not because of a dumb thong, but I can’t tell James the real reason. “Come on, don’t be like that. I didn’t sneak out in the past few days. Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”
“You deserve a hard slap on the back of your head, maybe that would help.”
“You’re not allowed to hit me.”
“Didn’t see anything about not hitting you in the contract.”
I roll my eyes at him, doubting that he’d hit me. I’d like to see him try.
“Please, I’d do anything.”
“Anything?” My ears perk up. Somehow, I expect something dirty as I nod.
“You’ll clean up. Your room, and the rest of the house, especially the kitchen.” Not thedirty requestI expected. He points at the plates in the sink and I glare at him with a sour expression.
“And you’ll wash and fold my laundry for the next two weeks.”
“One week.”
“Two.”
“Fine,” I groan as I put my plate on top of the others in the sink. James just shakes his head as I excuse myself and rush upstairs to get dressed before he changes his mind again.
“If you’re not down here in 30 seconds, you can forget your little trip,” he yells as I put on my pants. I almost trip on the stairs as I run down while pulling my sweater over my head.
James grabs his jacket while I look through the car keys on the sideboards in the hallway. Taking the car is usually reservedfor important things, like a doctor's visit or if my father wants me to appear somewhere, not for trips to the mall.
He’s already halfway to the front door as I clear my throat.
“The mask…”
“What about it?”
“Do you have to wear it? People are going to think you want to rob the mall.”
He takes a deep breath before he stomps back upstairs to his room. Only a minute later, he comes back down; the balaclava switched for a black surgical mask, and I can’t hide my surprise.
