Page 30 of Stitched Up in You
Her face screws up at that and she smiles. “Aww, I’m flattered. Did you read about me yourself, or did you have one of your stooges scrounge up random facts about my childhood to intimidate me with?” she says, her lip curling into a tight grin, but her icy tone confirms I struck a nerve.
“I so rarely do anything without purpose, and there would be no point in trying to intimidate you,” I reply. “I’m merely making an observation, by all means if you want to eat like a toddler, I won’t naysay you.” I take a bite of steak, letting the juices explode in my mouth as I watch her reaction, fascinated when her entire demeanor changes.
“I don’t see the point in wasting good manners on you when you seem to lack listening skills,” she fires back, straightening in her chair and folding her legs under her demurely. “But hear me now, this isn’t going to go that great for you if I don’t see my cat soon.”
She punctuates her demand by stabbing a fork in my direction, a sheen of hate in her gaze while she does.
“Your cat will be returned to you tomorrow morning. Breakfast is at 9 a.m., and you will join me here.”
She scoffs and plants an elbow onto the table hard. “No can do. I’ve barely slept in weeks, and I’m sleeping in tomorrow.”
“You’ll be here when breakfast is served.”
She arches a brow from across the long table and the silence lengthens, the gentle pop of the fire sounds behind her as sheshakes her head at me, an almost sympathetic look on her expression. Her lips pout and my insides clench.
“Unless you plan to physically remove me from my bed, it’s not happening. I don’t do mornings. I do my best work at night good sir, and that’s final.” She declares, punctuating the statement by crossing her arms over her chest.
My gaze rests where she presses them fully over her waist. Such a tiny furious thing. I decide to toy with her and see how far before the little human breaks.
From what I know of her, she’s smart, too smart, and will obviously use whatever she can against me and thwart me every time she can if the last few days have taught me anything. It’s almost admirable, her tenacity. Her defiance, however, will need to be squashed.
“Hmm, that can be arranged,” I tell her, enjoying the thought of dragging her from bed to do my bidding. I can just imagine how furious that would make her.
So many emotions flit across her expression at my words, ranging from disbelieving to intrigued before the mask slides back into place and she recovers.
“Right. Forcing two grown men to hoist a woman from her bedroom is just another Tuesday for you, isn’t it?” she bites back.
Humans have been finding ways to profit over war for hundreds of years, and the attack on my company is exactly that—war. They’ve just been forced to forget that the supernatural exists and I aim to keep it that way, even if it comes to dragging this woman from her sleep at all hours.
“I doubt it’ll take two.”
An eyeroll from her and I inwardly seethe, my hand twitching to mark her backside for the slight.
I dig into my meal instead, ignoring her for the moment.
“So, vampires eat meat, who knew?” she says, “Do all of them suck as much as you? Or is that part just your winning personality?”
Again, the idea that anyone believes me a vampire is preposterous, but I’ll be damned if she learns more about our kind.
“Why should I care what you think of my personality?” I ask, needling her further.
She adjusts her position in her chair, tucking away her hair with a quick movement.
“You are only here to do a job, and once you have completed that job, you will be let go. I could care less what you think of me when at best you’re a lowly criminal, even by your own account,” I continue.
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“It’s hardly terrorism when you hacked me, Miss Crenshaw. I didn’t start this little game, you did, need I remind you.”
She quirks a brow at this seemingly unaffected, but her hand tightens on her napkin that I can see as she practically leans, slumped over the table.
“Tomato,tomato, when am I getting my things?” she asks, and it makes me wonder what she’s thinking.
Anyone else with their greedy hands in Talbot, with billions at their disposal, would have at least attempted to move funds, but instead she donates to an animal fund. It makes no sense when humans, materialistic creatures to a one, are led by avarice while the stronger men exploit and prey on the weak. Something the supernatural don’t stand for, which makes her a human oddity I want to examine.
“Your clothing and supplies will arrive tomorrow as well,” I mutter, viewing her in a new light.
Her behavior proves she’s a nuisance, but for all intents and purposes, she owes me. And I always get what I am owed. “And you can have them, once you get me results.”
