Page 39 of Under the Lies

Pan meows and uncurls. He’s still purring as he jumps off the bed.

“Clearly, someone has never had a pet before.”

I watch as Pan saunters over to Noah, who eyes him with distaste.

“I hate animals,” he states plainly.

My mouth drops with his admission. “That explains so much…”

He smirks, but it immediately gets wiped away as Pan rubs against his legs. If possible his engine-sounding purr gets louder as he leaves white fur against Noah’s black slacks.

I swear my cat is smirking as he does it.

“Do something,” he snaps.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

“Get him away from me.”

“You’re a man. Pick him up yourself.” I cross my arms. “I didn’t take you for someone who was afraid of a little pussy.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, but before he can make a grab for my cat, I walk over and scoop Pan up. I would never subject my cat to Noah’s wrath.

Only someone as cold and callous as Noah could hate animals. He’s allergic to joy. And pets bring endless amounts of that. His poor black heart.

“Don’t pity me now, Baby Brooks.”

“You’re confused.” I drop Pan on the bed, and thankfully he stays there, curling back into a ball. “This face isn’t one of pity. It’s of disdain. I disdain you.”

The smirk only grows. “You sure you’re a grad student? That’s not good English.”

Gah!

This man. So infuriating.

“If you’re done insulting me.” I walk closer to him, hoping he’ll move to let me pass.

He doesn’t, standing at full height and blocking my doorway. “I’m not.”

“Excuse me?” I raise a brow, my clutch heavy in hand. I wonder how well it would go over if I smacked him in the chest for the level of douchery he’s brought into my bedroom.

“I’m not done evaluating you.”

“This isn’t a doctor’s office, Noah—”

He cuts me off, head tilted to the side in mock-surprise. “Really, I had no idea.”

“I don’t have to go with you, you know.”

“Actually, you do.” His hands slide into his pant pockets. “We have a contract, remember?”

“A contract that won’t stand in court.” I wrote it in pink ink, for goodness sake!

“Until Harlow’s back, you’re in this with me, Brooks. You need to get used to it.”

“I think I asked to be treated like an equal.”

“And I am. Treating you equally to how I treat everyone else.” Before I can bite a hole in my tongue or try to choke him with his tie—I swear I’m not usually a violent person, Noah Kincaid just seems to bring it out in me—he adds, “Now let’s take a look at what you’re wearing.”

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