Page 17 of Eye Candy

All Mike did was nod. He was in the process of rolling new balls of dough onto the cooking sheet.

“I wouldn’t peg someone like you as a chef,” I noted, eyes dipping low to the imprint of the gun on his side, beneath his shirt.

He said nothing, which seemed to be his thing.

“You keep making all this stuff, you’re gonna get me fat,” I spoke, going for a third cookie. It was eaten, practically devoured whole, within a minute, and as I swallowed the last bite of the cookie, I saw his eyes had flicked to me.

“You need to gain some weight,” he finally broke his silence.

I bent my head down, looking at myself, then back up to him. “What? No, stop it. I’m fine.” I didn’t think I was too skinny. It wasn’t like I was skin and bones… but it was also true there was no muscle on me, nothing to give my frame a bit of heft. I was pretty much the same size I’d been years ago.

Wanting to change the subject again, I pursed my lips as I watched him take the fully-prepped tray containing a new round of cookies and put it in the oven. His phone sat on the counter near the bowl of remnant dough, and he set a timer on it.

“How tall are you, exactly?” When Mike didn’t answer me, I asked, “How much do you weigh?”

That got him to shoot me a weird look. I had the feeling it was tough getting him to speak.

“You don’t like to talk, huh? Why not? Come on, I don’t bite.” I gave him my best innocent look, batting my eyelashes up at him in an overly dramatic way. I wouldn’t say I was trying to flirt, but, I supposed, if a third party happened to hear my tone, they might think I was. “Talk to me, Mike. If we’re going to spend a lot of time with each other, we should get to know each other, don’t you think?”

I thought it was a perfectly reasonable request, but Mike was unimpressed, and he said not a word. He did turn toward the sink and rinse off his hands, though, and I watched him do it. He was so tall, so wide, that every move he made was intimidating. Like, you had to watch him, otherwise he could snap and turn on you and kill you within seconds.

“How many people have you killed?” The question was spoken quietly, and I knew it was something I shouldn’t wonder about, but after these past two years… I did.

“I don’t know” was his reply.

“Do you think I could kill someone?” As I asked it, I didn’t have anyone in particular in mind, but I did think about how angry I’d been in that room, watching my dad win the race and become mayor, knowing he’d used my kidnapping to do it. It made me so unbelievably furious, even now, I liked to think I was capable of a lot of unspeakable things.

Mike let out a long sigh as he studied me. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

I smiled, although it was mostly a bitter smile. “One day, you and I will have an actual conversation. Today might not be that day, but it looks like you’ll be here for a while, so you better mentally prepare yourself to be chatty with me.”

My feet drew me away from him, away from his cookies. I’d come down and grab a few more later. When I emerged into the hall adjacent to the kitchen, I saw Kieran standing there, his arms folded, and I rolled my eyes at him as I walked by him.

“Do we need to have another conversation about eavesdropping?” I hissed, heading to the grand staircase.

He followed me up. “I don’t trust him with you, so I think I’ll eavesdrop on every conversation you and that guy have.” The tone he took… he almost sounded jealous—but that was silly. There might be some weird tension between us, but that didn’t mean he got jealous over other guys speaking to me.

“He seems like an all right guy.” I shrugged. “I trust him.” Once I reached the second floor, I started for my room. I slowed to a halt in the hall, about ten feet away from my bedroom door. The hall was a little dark, the light off overhead,the only thing illuminating the space was the sunlight streaming in through the two-story window that faced the grand staircase.

Kieran whispered, his voice low, “I think you trust too easily.”

Measured in turning to face him, I found he stood less than two feet away from me, a serious expression on his face. It struck me then; he really was a good-looking guy. Why didn’t he have a girlfriend? Was it because my dad kept him too busy all these years, or because of something else?

I didn’t know what got into me, what made me do it, but I found myself stepping closer to him, my voice dropping an octave as I murmured, “I trust you. Are you saying I shouldn’t?”

He let out an uneven breath, and since his head was angled down to mine, I felt the warmth of that breath blossom on my face. “I would never hurt you, Laina,” he spoke, lifting a hand to my arm, running his fingers up along that arm until they reached my shoulder, where they stopped. “I would rather burn this city to the ground than hurt you.”

Out of all the things he could’ve told me, he said that? Way to go to the extreme, dude. Still, it was kind of sweet in a weird, violent way. Maybe after being kept in a tiny room these last two years, my idea of romance had shifted a little bit. The way to my heart wasn’t roses and chocolate; it was promises of violence.

Because I couldn’t take the serious look he was giving me, I took a page out of his book and gave him a flippant response: “I’ll let you know if I ever need something burned to the ground, then.” And then I turned and finished walking to my bedroom, shutting the door to stop him from following me.

My heart beat hard in my chest after that, emotions threatening to rise to the surface inside. Crushing on Kieran was a bad, bad idea. I wanted to use him if I could, to get back at my dad, but developing real, genuine feelings for the guy… now that was going too far.

Chapter Seven – Laina

Once dusk fell, I got ready for the club. I changed into the dress and did my hair and makeup as best I could. Truth be told, I was a little rusty on both, but any style with my newly colored locks looked cute.

I decided on wearing black gloves with the dress; they might look out of place, but it was better than brandishing a bandage everyone could see. Plus, with the glove on my left hand, it would look like I had all five fingers, as long as no one stared too closely at it.

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