Page 6 of Seeds of Malice

He shrugs. "Not sure. So what are you going to study?"

"Botany."

He arches his eyebrows. "Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?"

My lips twitch. "No. My father got me obsessed with flowers when I was little. We had a huge garden in West Virginia."

"West Virginia. Bet that was fun," Dax says, but I'm unsure how he means it.

I stare at him.

"Well, was West Virginia fun?" he questions.

I nod. "Yeah, it was a nice place to live."

"So you weren't looking forward to coming to Connecticut?"

"I didn't say that."

"No?" He arches his eyebrow, as if he knows me better than I do.

"I'm very grateful that we're here. Please don't think anything different," I answer, not wanting to give him the wrong impression and do anything to harm my father's position or my free ride to college.

He studies me for a moment until I'm so uncomfortable I have to shift on my feet. Then he claims, "Ivy, I'm not a prick. You don't have to worry about what you say around me."

I release a breath. "I don't?"

"No. Let me guess. You think because I'm rich that I'm a spoiled brat, and we can't be friends."

I scrunch my eyebrows together. I did think that, but I'm not admitting it out loud. "No, I didn't say that."

"Good, so you're excited to be friends?" he asks, smiling bigger.

"You want to be friends with me?" I question like a moron, confused by this entire conversation.

He reaches toward me, and I freeze. He slides his finger over my forehead, down my cheek, and pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear. Tingles explode under his touch. He murmurs, "Yeah. Are friends bad?"

"No," I barely get out, wondering why a man who looks like him would be interested in being friends with me. I'm just a girl from West Virginia. Surely, he's got women all over him. I may be naive, but I'm not that ignorant. He's gorgeous. He's rich and has power. I bet he's beating women off him with a stick.

"Ivy, you need to take a break. It's summer and hot. There are several pools. And, yes, I need to show you all of them."

I nervously laugh. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

I glance around the house one more time. I'm tempted to give in, but I can't do that to my father. "Sorry, these boxes aren't going to empty themselves. Maybe a different day?"

Dax stares at me for a few moments.

"You're not used to being told no, are you?"

He shrugs again. "Nope, but that's fine. I'll help you unpack. We can hit up one of the pools before the sun goes down."

"You're going to help me unpack?" I ask, confused once more. Why would a man of his stature want to help me with manual labor?

He nods. "Sure. Like you said, the boxes aren't going to unpack themselves, are they?"

"No, but you don't have to do that. I'm sure you have a lot of things to do."

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