Page 5 of I Am Sin

“I couldn’t agree more, Diana.” Then he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Good. Good riddance.

I need to make myself some dinner anyway. I had an early lunch, and my stomach was growling before Dragon showed up.

Funny. I’m not that hungry now.

Still, I traipse into my kitchen—my huge gourmet kitchen.

It’s twice the size of the kitchen I shared with my roommates when I was in college. Ample counter space—granite, of course. Rich cabinets of dark wood, half of which are empty or holding a few dishes at most. A mammoth island in the middle that’s big enough to house a five-burner gas range, a second sink—yes, I have two—and a small wine fridge. Top-of-the-line appliances, the crown jewel of which is my professional-grade refrigerator.

I could easily handle two people using this kitchen. Maybe Iamthe selfish bitch that I accused Dragon of calling me. I sigh and open my refrigerator.

I grab the pound of ground beef that I took out to defrost yesterday. My family is in the beef business, so I eat a lot of beef. I’ll fry myself a burger, and I’ll have leftovers for tomorrow.

And for some reason, without thinking?—

I head back to the door, open it, and dart my gaze down the hallway.

Dragon stands, waiting for the elevator.

“Dragon?”

He turns and raises his dark eyebrows.

“I’m making myself a burger. There’s too much for just me. Do you want one?”

He cocks his head.

Doesn’t say anything.

“Do you think that’s a trick question?” I ask.

He walks toward me. When he gets to the door, he simply says, “Sure.”

For a second, I think he’s replying to my trick question comment, but he’s actually accepting my dinner invitation.

I can’t house him, but I can at least feed him. Maybe it will show him that I’m not some horrible heiress who can’t bother herself to help someone in need.

Because frankly, Dragon isnotin need. He’s a member of Dragonlock, an up-and-coming rock band that I know is going to make it big. And he has access to Jesse’s wallet, so he doesn’t need to stay here. He can easily find another place.

I mean seriously. Why did it have to behere?With me?

None of that makes any sense at all.

“What do you like on your burger?” I ask as I head back into the kitchen.

“Everything,” he says.

I purse my lips. “Okay, that doesn’t tell me shit. I’ve got lettuce, tomato, onion, avocado, ketchup, mustard, mayo. Cheddar cheese, smoked Gouda, pepper jack.”

He nods. “Sounds great.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re not telling me you want all of that on your burger.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Three different kinds of cheese?”

---