Page 24 of Ruthless Beasts

“We don’t always cook,” I pointed out, and I willed my eyes to look at her face and not travel to her stomach.

“But you’ve never bought food.” She arched a brow. “What’s the occasion?”

I don’t know little Belle, why don’t you fucking tell me?

I held that thought in. Barely. “No occasion.”

“Oh.” She did that thing with her lip that was pure torture. “I know you have a schedule, but do you think?—”

She stopped talking, letting the word hang. “Do I think what?”

“I know if I asked Ace, he would tell me no. And Mercer is suspicious because Ace made him that way, but…”

“Why would you ask them, and not me?” I wondered.

“I-I don’t see you.” She took a step back, as if giving me a fact I was just now realizing was an issue would cause me to explode.

“Are you afraid of me?” My voice was softer this time.

“Should I be?” Her lashes batted before she looked into my eyes.

“You should be afraid of a lot of things in this world, Belle, and this world should fear us. But never you.”

It took her a long moment before she nodded. “Okay.”

“What were you going to ask?” I prompted.

“Do you think I could cook too, or help? Ace moves every knife I get close to.” She fidgeted in place.

“Does he have a reason to do so?” I wanted the truth, and only that.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I could see why he is suspicious. But your home has been nothing but kind to me. I wouldn’t cause you harm.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Okay?”

“If Ace is worried, he can do a regular knife count.”

“Thank you.”

Thanking me? For such a little thing as telling her she could cook. It was ridiculous. “This is your house,” I pointed out. “You never needed permission.”

“It’s just…”

The way this girl is always working her bottom lip. I’m surprised it isn’t permanently bruised. Without thinking, Ireached up, freeing it from her assault. We stood frozen, both of us not moving or speaking, equally shocked by the touch.

Focus, I chided myself. “It’s just what?”

“My father didn’t allow me in the kitchen.” Before I could question why or point out how unreasonable that was, she rushed forward. “I would sneak in, of course, and Ms. Molly, that’s our cook, would teach me and let me help. But never when Father was around.”

What the hell type of crazy was she living with where she couldn’t use the kitchen? That made no sense and yet, I wasn’t even shocked by her confession. Her father was psychotic. “Your father is…”

I didn’t complete my sentence because I despised him, yes. He ruined my life. But she was still his daughter.

“You can say it. It’s okay. I know what type of man he is.” Her eyes were sorrowful.

“It’s not my place to speak about him to you.” I continued, “It wasn’t why I came here.”

---