“Then why do you care if I read while you clean?”
“I think you’d be better in bed.”
“Excuse me?” His face blackened. “Remind me again that you’re not trying to sleep with me when every word out of your mouth hints at seduction.”
“Seduction?” I gasped. “Yeah, okay. That’s exactly what I’m doing.” Rolling my eyes, I laughed, amazed that I could. That I felt relaxed enough to joke with him. “I’m incredibly talented in making men want me by pointing out that I don’t want them lurking over me or that they look under the weather.”
“Some might take such observations as a sign that you care.” He spoke those words—I saw his lips move—but the moment thesentence ended; he looked shocked and angry. As if he’d had no intention of saying such things.
Our eyes locked.
Things flew between us.
Awkwardness mainly but also awareness and that uncomfortable undercurrent of connection.
Needing to sever such ridiculous things before they ruined me for the rest of my life, I blurted, “How are you even out of bed after yesterday?”
“And there you go again.” He smiled thinly. “Why are you suddenly so obsessed with my bed?”
“I’m not.”
His eyebrow arched as elegantly as if someone had painted it with a calligraphy brush. “Are you so sure about that?”
“Very sure. I’m merely concerned for your wellbeing.”
“Keep going and I’ll be forced to kill you based on the fact that your true colours are finally showing.” He flattened a palm over his book, pressing it against his thighs. “I was wondering when you’d slip and make your move like all the rest.”
“My move?” I scowled. “What move?”
He sighed with a soft smirk. “Aren’t you getting sick of this little game? You’ve done well, I’ll admit. You’re the first woman to gain access to my inner quarters and the only one who’s ever seen my bed, let alone been in it, but that doesn’t mean I trust you.”
My cheeks heated, reminding me far too clearly that he was right. Ihadbeen in his bed. I’d been plasteredbeneathhim in his bed. Our skin had touched. His fiery heat had soaked into me, branding me as if searing his way into my bones.
My heart raced as I forced a sunny smile. “You know what? I don’t think talking is our strong suit.” Shuffling the cleaning products in my arms, I backed up. “I’ll just...do what you summoned me here to do.”
He smiled, holding my stare. “First wise thing you’ve said.”
Spinning on my heel, I marched toward the dining table that didn’t look like it had ever been used for a meal but was more of an office dumping ground. The stacks of papers, ledgers, and other official-looking documents all held a logo of a single glowing flame.
Placing the bottles and rags on the only clear space, I turned back to face him.
He’d resumed reading his book, his chin tipped down and the sunshine gilding him like he wasn’t human, but some fallen god who couldn’t escape this hellish world.
His gaze cut to mine, sensing me looking at him. “Now what?”
“I’m not good with medicine and I go out of my way to avoid blood, but you...you took two bags out of your body yesterday. That seems like a lot.”
Placing his thumb in the centre of his book, he closed it slowly and rested it on his lap. His signature black trousers and shirt rustled as he shifted. His black coat had been shed and tossed on the floor. “I thought we agreed we wouldn’t talk.”
“I think I earned the right to ask a few questions after what you made me do yesterday.” I shuddered. “How can you act as if draining yourself means nothing?”
“I’m used to it.”
“Don’t you get...dizzy?”
He arched a brow and reached for a teacup on the quaint side table shaped like a swan. “Why? Are you suddenly worried about me?” With a barely-there smirk, he brought the fragile china to his lips, the sunlight twinkling on the gold leaf around the rim.
His mouth pressed lightly to the cup, the tendons in his throat worked as he swallowed.
