Page 186 of Damsel in Disguise

Apparently, while I had been hiding from humiliation, he escaped the firing squad.

The image still plays vividly in my mind.

Asher was standing there with one hand already drawn back, fully prepared to punch the living hell out of him while the other held a gun because apparently one form of violence wasn’t enough for him.

Meanwhile, Adrian had been doing his absolute worst to keep the two from committing a felony before breakfast.

And somehow Alistair still managed to leave in one piece.

A small pang settled in my chest. I wasn’t expecting forehead kisses and declarations of affection. God knows Alistair Hertley isn’t built that way.

Still, after literally wrecking my body and becoming my first, a simple knock on the bathroom door and a “I’m leaving” wouldn’t have killed him.

“Then answer it properly on the seventh,” Asher presses, pulling me back to the present.

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I literally did.”

Adrian leans back on the sofa beside him, looking far too entertained by my suffering. “In her defense, she answered it every time.”

“Thank you,” I give him a sweet smile.

“It was just a different lie each time,” Adrian pouts.

My jaw drops immediately from a gasp. “Traitor.”

“Professional observer,” he corrects lazily.

Across from me, Asher narrows his eyes at me.

The expression would probably terrify most people, but not me. I’ve seen him cry just because I got a fever when I was twelve.

At least neither of them seemed interested in questioning why I was suddenly wearing enough layers to survive an Arctic expedition.

Between the scarf wrapped around my neck and the full-length trousers, despite the pleasant weather outside, I did a reasonably decent job concealing the damage Alistair inflicted.

I’m more than thankful that my brothers are simply choosing not to worsen my humiliation.

“So let me get this straight,” Asher says, straightening up. “You moved across continents. Enrolled in one of the most competitive universities in the world. Started dressing differently. Started acting differently. Developed a British accent despite being Aussie, and somehow I’m supposed to believe none of that has anything to do with that smiling freak.”

I nearly choke on my hot chocolate. “Smiling freak? He freed me from the ward when you guys weren’t even here.”

The ache blooming between my legs reminds me why I shouldn’t defend him.

“That’s exactly what he is,” Asher focuses only on the ‘smiling freak’ part of what I just said.

“He teaches engineering.”

“Which somehow makes it worse.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” he argues. “Nobody smiles that much voluntarily, especially if it’s that branch of engineering. It’s suspicious.”

I stare at him while Adrian nods.