Page 85 of Organized Chaos
This was Brandon’s go-to sex appeal look.
If I weren’t convinced that he hated me, I would have wondered if Brandon had groomed himself before this run-in.
“Is everything okay?” Chris sounded concerned upon hearing my tone because that’s the kind of man he was—a genuine one. Unlike the other one looming over me dangerously.
Brandon’s eyes flickered to the phone as if just realizing that I was on a call. The volume was loud enough to hear muffled voices on the other end. Pushing against his chest, I sidestepped him, so he wouldn’t hear Chris.
Brandon tilted his massive frame to block my sweet escape. “Not so fast.”
“Who’s that?” Chris asked.
Simultaneously, Brandon frowned. “Who are you speaking with?”
Instead of replying to Brandon, I spoke on the phone. “Do you mind if I call you—hey, what the hell?”
Brandon snatched the phone out of my hand and scowled at the screen. The way his face twitched upon reading the caller’s identity had me diving for the device. He could see Chris’ first AND last name. It was information I didn’t want him to have.
“Mia?” Chris’ voice came from a distance.
“Give it back,” I hissed.
Brandon held the phone out of my reach. I might as well be fun-sized in comparison. A physical fight with him was futile. It was best to hang up before Brandon did any detrimental damage.
“Chris, I have to go. I’ll call you back,” I shouted, standing on my tippy toes.
“Okay,” I faintly heard Chris’ tentative response.
As Chris hung up, I called for as much composure as I could muster. Name-calling and anger served no purpose against a man like Brandon.
I glanced behind him. My house was a block away, so running into him couldn’t be a coincidence. Was he waiting for me?
No way. Last I checked, Brandon and I were mortal enemies.
So, then what the fuck was he doing here?
I had every right to demand answers to such a simple question. I just needed to push the words out of my lips.Why are you here?“Is it embarrassing for you to be this obsessed with me?”
I assumed Brandon would snap at me. Instead, he smirked, his dark mood dissipating.
A set of devil eyes perused me slowly like they were busy taking their fill and would inform me when they were good and ready to move on. They were burning with either hunger or fury, or perhaps both.
I was in my school uniform—a white shirt, pleated skirt, boots, and a blazer. Nothing sexy to report, but his lewd ogling could have convinced me otherwise. He inspected every inch of my legs, neck, breasts. Repeatedly my breasts.
The initial nerves I had experienced returned tenfold. He was attempting to make me uncomfortable, and it was working. I pulled my blazer tighter against my chest and wiped my clammy hands on my skirt.
It was difficult not to crack under his scrutinizing intensity, and I used the term loosely.
This was ridiculous. He owed me an explanation about his presence.Why are you here?“If you stare any harder, you’ll fall in love with me.”
He kept staring, despite my factual words. Look it up. There was a direct correlation between eye contact and love.
“Look, I appreciate a good brooding and this wholewill theyorwon’t theything we have going on, but perhaps you can schedule to stare into my eyes with heated passion for a later time. I’m busy at the moment.” I held out my hand. “If you’ll be so kind as to return my phone, I’ll be on my way.”
His eyes flickered to my outstretched palm, then back to my face. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t comply.
“Phone, please.”
“We need to talk.” He dared to utter those words with a straight face.
