Page 76 of Hot for Hostage

His gaze dragged down my body in a leer like slime against my skin, and I really wished Davian hadn’t taken my underwear with him. Even with my skirt covering everything important down there, I was too exposed under his father’s eye.

I cleared my throat as his scrutiny carried on, feeling totally violated.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked when the silence grew impossible to ignore.

Mr. Reed’s head tilted to the side, his gaze focusing closely on my legs.

“I have no doubt you could, though I’m still trying to figure something out.” His eye darted back up to mine. “What are you doing here?”

The question was innocent enough, but the weight behind it made me swallow a fresh rush of nerves.

Davian hadn’t warned me his father was such a creep.

“I’m baking cupcakes,” I answered evenly, waving at the dozens of trays filled with baked goods. “And, um, dog treats. You probably don’t want to eat any of those, but would you like a cupcake?”

I didn’twantto give him one of my prized confections, but the least I could do was be polite. So, I held out one of the cupcakes that’d finished cooling and was decorated with a pink daisy.

He hummed noncommittally—not looking too impressed by the selection. “No, but I would love to know how you know my son.”

… Uh-oh.

That seemed like the last question I should be answering. There was a reason Davian had warned me about his father.

Maybe if I played dumb, he’d leave me alone.

“Your son?” I asked, but my voice came out too high-pitched to fool anyone.

Mr. Reed’s lips formed a thin line before he answered. “Davian Reed. The man whose kitchen you’re currently using.”

“Oh. Of course. That son.” I fiddled with the cupcake, hoping the blush rising to my cheeks wasn’t too noticeable. “Well, Dav helped me with something yesterday, and I’m just baking some cupcakes to thank him.”

His eye widened in disbelief. “…Dav?”

“Davian,” I corrected quickly, the metaphorical ice weakening beneath my feet. “Sorry.”

Instead of speaking, Mr. Reed stepped behind me, and I stilled, not daring to move. What was he doing? Who randomly walks behind people? It was another reminder I had no business being alone with this man. I thought about making a run for it to find Davian—if I could remember how to get back to his office.

Mr. Reed’s shoes went silent as he stopped on my other side—close enough for his suit to brush my shoulder. Way too close. “And what exactly did my son help you with?”

If he was trying to intimidate me, it was working. I angled myself to better keep him in my sights. “One of the dogs from the shelter I work at was taken, and Dav—er,Davian—helped me get him back.”

I coughed to cover my slip, not that it helped anything.

He hummed again. “What’s the name of the shelter?”

My brows pulled together. Did it matter? He sure asked a lot of questions.

“It’s, uh, Happy Tails Haven,” I said.

With a sigh, he clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed the kitchen. “Of course it is. That explains a lot.”

I blinked back at him. Had I missed something important? “…It does?”

His answering chuckle grated against my nerves.

“It does. I can even see why my son helped you. You’re a pretty little thing,” he said, and it took a lot of effort not to gag. His single eye took in the trays of cupcakes littering the counters, and he shook his head. “And here I was, thinking he finally decided on a pastry chef for the wedding.”

I wasn’t sure this conversation could get any stranger.

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