Page 65 of Heartfelt Pain
“I’m surprised you’re not eating.” It’s not quite a question but his brow knits together.
“I’m not that hungry.”
“I’ve seen you eat eight bowls of ramen in one day.”
“Okay, first of all, that’s a bit weird that you counted.”
“That’s not even her record,” Abe quips from the other side of Ben. We move down the table, as more people start to scavenge for goodies.
“Are you okay?” Ben asks quietly. Like he’s on alert.
Which makes sense. He’s the one I called when the Zimins nearly ruined me.
“I’m fine,” I assure. But then because fate is funny I turn my head and catch Lev’s eye. He’s standing with a group of men. He’s got a glass of whiskey in one hand and keeps his other in his pocket.
Lev laughs along with the group, but his gaze never leaves mine. Tipping his chin slightly, he acknowledges me.
I nod back.
“I don’t like him,” Trevino whispers.
I lift a brow. “Maybe don’t say that when you’re in his house.”
“Not that one.” His eyes move a minuscule degree to a man next to Lev. “That one.”
“William Hallow.” My brow wrinkles at the businessman.
Trevino’s already gotten rid of the plate of sugar. He stands with his arms clasped in front of him.
“Why?” I ask.
He shakes his head. Fair enough, considering the crowd.
I’m starting to realize I like Trevino’s insight. I make a note to ask him for information later.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I quietly say.
Trevino follows.
“Are you serious?” I ask as we sidestep people.
“You’re in the house of a known enemy.”
“You’re making me feel really good about my decision to come here today.” The weight of Trevino’s stare is noticeable. “What?”
The bodyguard is staggeringly handsome but a tad bit grumpier than normal.
“You can leave you know.”
The hallway is quieter and I keep walking hoping I’ll find the right door. “I’m fine,” I tell him.
“Life is too short for being miserable.”
The words cut me. “You think I’m miserable?”
He lowers his voice. “I think you came to Lev Zimin’s house to prove to everyone that you’re fine. To prove you’re not scared despite there being a serial killer on the loose.”
“I got invited.” The invitation is still hanging on my fridge.
