Page 16 of Don't Make Me Beg
Scout’s eyebrows furrow as she looks around, as if she’s trying to figure out where the voice came from.
I make a gesture with my hands. “L.O.K.I’s my AI home assistant. He controls everything around here and is available to assist you with anything you need. All you have to do is ask?—”
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Sinclair. Please call on me any time you like.” L.O.K.I quickly adds, and I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s on his best behavior tonight. Normally, I prep him for things like this, but I didn’t exactly see any of this happening tonight.
“Loki, as in Thor’s brother? I guess it was the natural next choice since Jarvis was already taken.” Scout scoffs a laugh, clearly irritated, though she’s doing a pretty good job of playing nice.
Too bad I see right through her mask. This is going to be even more fun than I realized.
I tilt my head, not even trying to hide my smirk. “Technically, it’s short forLuka’s Original Kick-ass Invention…Though if I knew his name would turn out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy, I might have chosen differently.”
“Would you also like me to start referring to you as Tony Stark now...or do you prefer Iron Man?” She says without missing a beat, this time she doesn’t mask the annoyance in her tone, and when her eyes meet mine, there’s no hiding the glassy sheen to them.
Poor thing looks like she’s on the verge of tears.
Good.
I hold her stare, silently begging her to push me. To give me a reason to blow up and unleash all this pent-up rage I’ve been carrying.
But, of course, she’s too much of a coward. She clears her throat and looks away. “So how does that work?” She gestures to the house. “Isn’t the whole AI thing bad for the environment? Itkind of goes against your family’s whole eco-friendly movement, doesn’t it?”
I click my tongue and shrug. “L.O.K.I.’s the first of his kind, he runs off sustainable resources... A mixture of solar power as well as kinetic energy from the falls.” I take a step closer and she instinctively takes a step back. “It was sort of a passion project I developed while I was locked up,” I say with a wink.
Scout’s eyes drop to her feet at the mention of my prison sentence. Well...that’s one way to shut her up. Good to know she feels guilty at least.
I should probably leave well enough alone, but selfishly, I’m enjoying watching her squirm. “Did you have any more questions, or...”
Scout just shakes her head, but she doesn’t say anything.
“I find it curious,” L.O.K.I. chimes in, “that your lady friend is wearing a turtleneck sweater and dress pants, considering the current outdoor temperature. Does Miss Sinclair have an aversion to air conditioning I should be aware of? Should I calibrate the guest room to accommodate her…peculiar preferences?”
Rather than answering for her, I quirk a brow and wait for Scout to respond.
She swallows thickly then finally says, “Oh…um…no thank you, L.O.K.I. That won’t be necessary.”
“Noted. Please let me know if you change your mind. I will begin prepping the guest room now.”
Scout looks around in confusion. “Is he still watching us?” she asks in a hushed whisper.
I just shrug. “Probably. He’s a nosey little fucker.” I slip off my shoes and hang my bike gear on the rack.
But when I glance back at Scout, I see she’s preoccupied looking around.
“Well, what do you think? It’s barely recognizable from when you lived here, right?”
“Yep… You’ve certainly made it your own,” she says through gritted teeth as she kicks off her shoes.
I almost laugh at her painful attempt to stay polite, despite how obviously pissed she must be. The fact that Scout can be so justifiably furious with me and still have the manners to leave her shoes by the door only confirms what I’ve always known. She hasn’t changed a bit…
Hell, if anything, she’s even weaker now than she was back then. And somehow, that realization only stokes the hot coal of fury already burning inside me.
I study her for a moment as she shrugs out of her cardigan, folding it over her arm rather than placing it on the hook. Her cheeks are flushed pink as she pushes her emotions back down to wherever she keeps them hidden away, and I find myself growing more curious about the circumstances that led her back here. What is she hiding in that pretty head of hers, and how can I provoke her enough to finally get her to break?
Without another word, I make my way to the kitchen, Scout following closely behind me as we both carefully step over the loose wooden plank that, despite all my upgrades, I couldn’t make myself fix. I don’t have to give her a tour; she knows the layout of this place better than anyone.
Scout clenches her cardigan to her chest, standing awkwardly like she’s waiting on direction…or permission for what to do next.
I make my way over the bar cart. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.” I don’t wait for her request; just make her the same gin and soda that I’m having, adding a few maraschino cherries to her glass before handing it to her.
