Page 10 of Pit

He sighs before asking, “How long have you been married?”

I twist my fingers together. “Not long.”

“A week, a month, a year?”

“A few days.”

He frowns. “And you’re already in the shit. Not really the marriage you’d hoped for? Was it a big affair?”

“Huh?”

“Your wedding, cos I checked your phone earlier and there were no pictures.”

“So what?”

“Not really the sort of thing you’d expect from a blushing bride. I mean, how old are you and you haven’t even got social media?”

“I don’t like social media.”

“Bullshit. People who don’t have social media are hiding something.”

“Do you have it?” I ask.

“No, but I’m hiding something.”

“The fact you’re a cold-blooded killer?”

He smirks, turning to put the pan of vegetables on the cooker. He grabs the pack of meat he took out the freezer earlier and slaps it on the chopping board, using a knife to cut away the packaging. “Where are you from, Tessa?”

“Why do you care if you’re going to kill me?” I snap.

“My grandparents left me this farm,” he says, placing two steaks on the board. I watch as he seasons them, occasionally rubbing the herbs into the red meat. The blood on his fingers takes me back to the warehouse, and I squeeze my eyes shut to block it out. “They died.”

“Died, or did you kill them for it?” I ask, unable to stop myself.

He sniggers, and I’m relieved he hasn’t taken offence. “They died together but not at my hands.”

I roll my eyes, not believing him. “I wasn’t lying. I don’t know Alec,” I tell him.

His eyes meet mine, and I stare back so he can see I’m telling the truth. “You married a man you don’t know?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“That’s none of your business. I have my reasons, but I didn’t lie about anything else.”

“So, you are an escort?”

“Of sorts.”

“He hired you to marry him?”

“I have something he wants.”

“Well, now, I have something he wants too, so let’s hope he’s willing to fight to get it all back.”

He turns his back and places the steaks in a red-hot pan. As they sizzle, I stand, gaining the attention of Gigi, who also stands, alerting Pit, who turns. “I’m not running,” I snap. “I need to pee.”

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