Page 12 of Positively Pricked
Chapter 4
In a panic, I yanked the door shut and scooted backward inside the van. On the way, I bumped a stack of boxes and sent them tumbling. A sudden clatter – the sound of metal cascading onto metal – made me cringe in absolute horror.
Yup, there went the extra silverware.
But it wasn't the silverware I cared about. It was the noise.
So much for silently hiding out.
I gave a mental eye-roll.Yeah, right.Like I hadn't already been busted.
What now?
Should I hunker down and hope he goes away? Or crawl out and face the music?
In the end, I didn't have to do anything, because a moment later, that same cargo door swung open, and there he was – Zane Bennington himself.
His gaze was sharp, and his mouth was tight, which was a shame really, because he had a nice mouth. Or rather, itwould'vebeen a nice mouth if his lips weren't compressed into a hard, ominous line.
Our gazes locked across the short distance, and I felt myself swallow.
I was still on all fours, and I had to crane my neck to stare up at him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with that obnoxiously thick hair, and cheekbones that made me just a little bit jealous. His suit was dark and tailored – obviously expensive – with a white button-down shirt, open slightly at the collar.
In every possible way, he looked like a million bucks, which was almost funny, because if the stories were true, he was worth way more than a million – probably more than a billion counting all the assets.
And yet, he wasn't much older than I was.
Talk about lucky.
Him, not me.
Still, I tried to smile. "Uh, hi."
He didn't smile back, not that I'd expected him to. In a dangerously quiet voice, he said, "Get out."
I blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
Suddenly, I didn'twantto get out. True, the van was a cluttered freezing mess, but the guy in front of me was something else entirely. I mumbled, "That's okay. I'm good."
His gaze hardened. "You think."
Was that a question? It didn’tsoundlike a question. I cleared my throat. "You're probably wondering who I am, huh?"
From the look in his eyes, he knew exactly who I was – an insignificant bug to be flicked off his pricey jacket.
Into his silence, I said, "I'm just the caterer."
No. That wasn't quite true.
I tried again. "Well, not the caterer-caterer. I mean, I'm just the assistant, one of several, actually – because, you know, it's a pretty big party, huh?"
Right.As if he didn't know. This was his place, after all.
His cool gaze swept over me, and he looked decidedly unimpressed.
Then again, Iwashunkered out, doggie-style, in a van.
