“No.”
“Then don’t knock it. It’s not all corsets and rain.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You made a face.”
He takes the book from my hands and turns it over to examine it. “This is what you think I want to read? Doomed love?”
“I think you’re broody enough to qualify as a Brontë character.” I shrug. “Besides, it’s not about love. It’s about obsession. And consequence. And class.” The moment the words pour from my mouth, his eyes narrow. Shit. What did I say? Oh . . . I want to bury myself in a hole for speaking about class.Way to put your foot in your mouth.
“Is this supposed to be relevant?”
“Relevant?” Smart, Victoria . . . play dumb.
“Relevant as in, talking to you . . . or the fact that I’m not supposed to.”
“Who said that?”
“Everyone.”
My eyes widen. Did my parents say something? Shit. “Calm down. Just other members of the staff. Your secret is safe for now.”
“My secret?”
“That you don’t mind talking to the staff.”
I open and then shut my mouth, not really knowing what to say. “Who would I be in this story . . . since it’s so relevant.”
“I never said it was relevant. You did.”
“Heathcliff?”
“Again . . . you said that. Not me.”
“Just answer.”
I hesitate, then sigh. “That depends on how you end it.”
He tilts his head. “You think I’m going to destroy everything and haunt the girl?”
“I think you could,” I respond quietly. “But I don’t think you will.”
That shuts him up for once.
He finishes fixing the door.
I lean back on the bench until my back hits the wall behind me, arms crossed, watching him like he’s a puzzle I want to solve.If only there were a cheat code.
“Do you read?” I ask.
“Of course I read,” he huffs.
Is it possible for me to sound like a bigger bitch? I keep saying shit I don’t mean and look like an idiot. I chalk it up to nerves. Lorenzo has me wrapped in knots, but jeez, I need to think before I speak. “I meant for pleasure. Not everyone does.”
“When I can steal the time.”
I stretch my arm out to place the book in his hand. “You could read this.”
