“Good.” Braxton releases his wrist, but keeps his eyes trained on Gavin, an icy fury radiating behind them. After only a moment’s hesitation, Gavin scurries down the hall, leaving us alone.
“Did he hurt you?” Braxton’s words are soft, and he doesn’t turn around. By the way he rolls his shoulders and bends his neck from side to side, it almost looks as if he’s trying to regain his composure before facing me.
“It’s only a light bruise,” I answer cautiously. “I’ve endured worse.”
“Not at the hands of my staff, I hope.” That edge is creeping back into his voice, and I see his fist clench.
“No. Not from yourstaff.”
I must be crazy to try and provoke the man that I just watched effortlessly break someone’s wrist with his bare hands, but thewords slip past my lips all the same. I make sure to emphasize the last word enough so that he understands my implication.
My once budding fear is overpowered by a newfound buzzing frustration. How can he stand there and pretend like he gives a shit about someone hurting me, when he’s the person who’s hurt me the most out of anyone? Braxton turns to face me, his face stoic and infuriatingly unreadable.
“You may think what you would like of me, Azalea, but I would never lay a hand on you.”
“There are other ways to hurt people.” My reply holds no hesitation.
He purses his lips but doesn’t argue with me. His onyx eyes clash with my honey ones as we hold each other’s gazes, both trying to decipher what the other is thinking. Braxton’s stare softens becoming almost sincere, but I can’t believe it is anything more than a charade of some kind. Everything he does is a means to an end, and I need to figure out his goal.
“Well, I’d better go put some clothes on, especially if we’re going to talk.”
He walks back into his room, and I can’t seem to stop my feet from following him.
“Talk?” The question is hot off my tongue.
“Didn’t you get my note?”
“Yes…” I draw out the word.
“And you’re capable of reading, correct?”
“Yes.” This time, the word comes out clipped.
“Then I’m sure you saw that I wanted to talk. More specifically about… what happened in my study.”
“You mean when you were absolutely foul to me after I simply asked to share a drink together?” I sit on a trunk at the foot of his bed, crossing one ankle under the other and placing my hands in my lap.
“You were the one wiggling your ass on my lap.”
“Only because you pulled me onto it.”
“You were basically already sitting on top of me.”
I scoff before standing and smoothing down my dress. “Nice talk,” I hiss and head for the door.
“Wait.”
My feet halt. My body obeys his command even though my mind is screaming at me to keep walking.
“Just… take a seat. Let me change. Then, maybe we can talk like civilized people.”
“Tempting,” I glance at him over my shoulder. “But are you capable of such a thing?”
“Of talking?”
“Of being civilized.”
He gives me an insincere laugh. “I’ll be right back. Don’t touch anything.”
