Page 67 of Remy

She sighs, long and weary. “It’s too early to pretend to play happy families. Can we at least wait until the caffeine kicks in?”

“Of course. I’m nothing if not excessively patient.”

She scoffs into her mug and takes a sip, her gaze not leaving mine.

I don’t let the animosity get to me. I can’t.

We have to figure this shit out or she’s dead. Simple as that.

“I’ll be the first to admit yesterday was a cluster fuck.” I turn my attention to the food bag and shove a hand inside. “I’m hoping we can find a way to see eye to eye.”

I was too hard on her.

Too threatening.

She’s not merely virginal in the sexual sense but also when it comes to the ways of the world. Her father warned me she’s isolated. That she lives in a vacuum. Few friends. Minimal social interaction.

Me storming into her life would’ve felt like the start of Armageddon.

“I guess that sounds like a good idea,” she grumbles.

My gaze snaps to hers.

Is she fucking with me?

Her expression remains impassive. Her stance, emotionless.

“I know I have to comply,” she adds. “I’ve always known. And in my defense, I asked numerous times for space so I could make all this sit right in my head. The sleepless night gave me that. I’ll co-operate.”

The hair on the back of my neck prickles.

She’s definitely fucking with me. Right?

“That’s quite a backflip.” I pull two breakfast burritos from the bag. “Especially when you came so close to snitching.”

She heaves a heavy breath. “I’d like to consider myself a relatively smart woman, Remy. So I can say with complete honesty that snitching was never an option. I wouldn’t risk my father’s life like that, let alone mine. Obviously I’m not going to win any awards for thinking on my feet in life-threatening situations, but what I was attempting last night was to stall. Lesley knows me too well to have listened to me blurt my private life without hesitation. I didn’t want to make her more suspicious.”

I remain quiet in the hopes she’ll continue trying to persuade me because I’m not convinced. I slide a breakfast burrito across the table in her direction before unwrapping the top of mine.

“She’s an extremely perceptive woman. One who’s well aware I like to suffer in silence,” she says. “If I spewed my father’s health secrets without at least a little reluctance, she wouldn’t have stopped her interrogation until we’d both passed a polygraph.”

Her eyes hold mine. There’s none of the venom from yesterday. None of the seething hatred. She’s adamant. Possibly telling the truth.

“What I’d been about to say, before you jammed your gun harder against my back, was that I’d had a horrible day but that you had taken care of me. That your kindness was the only reason I wasn’t a blubbering mess. And that I assumed you were snooping around my yard because I’d pushed you away when I became irrationally emotional.” She places her mug on the counter behind her and wraps her arms around her middle. “I was trying to create a believable story. The truth had never been an option. That’s why I’d dug my nails into your hand. To get you to hold fire on any knee-jerk reaction.”

“I thought you were being vindictive.”

“No.” Her gaze turns pleading. “I was being strategic.”

I’m tempted to believe her. The worst part is that I know exactly why I’m preparing to turn coat so easily.

It’s her beauty.

Her innocence.

I’d gobble up her words whether truth, lie, or fiction. Hell, I could listen to her tell me the world was flat and walk away convinced.

“I know what’s at stake.” Her throat works over a delicate swallow. “And although I don’t appreciate the position I’m in, I’d much less prefer to be the next person you throw in my retort.”

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