Page 13 of Glitter Rose
For a year. In this gilded cage.
Still, she’s hiding something. Nobody survives alone in a penthouse for a year with food, water, and fucking glitter eyeshadow.
But, truth is, I feel like hammered shit. My head throbs with each heartbeat, and my ankle’s swollen to twice its normal size. I can’t get back like that.
I should rest three days, maybe four or more…
I mean…
There are worse ways to start a day.
Walsh will give me shit about going off alone anyway.
Let’s enjoy this a bit.
FOUR
PARIS
The porridge bubbles in the pot, thick and golden like liquid sunshine. I stir it with a wooden spoon, the rhythmic motion hypnotic after a year of cooking for one.
“More cinnamon?” I sprinkle another dash, the fine powder dissolving into swirls. My stomach growls, reminding me that last night’s pasta never happened. Thanks to my unexpected guest and his bleeding head.
Speaking of which.
I peer up.
Knox sits motionless on the couch, ankle propped on a pillow, eyes tracking my every move. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something predatory in the stillness of his body.
“Hope you like it.” I retrieve two bowls from the cabinet, one with hand-painted roses, the other a minimalist ceramic piece. “It’s either this or stale protein bars.”
“Better than anything I had in days.” His voice is stronger, the rasp smoothed out.
I ladle the golden mixture into both bowls, adding an extra drizzle of honey to mine. Walking carefully to avoid spilling, Ihand him the ceramic bowl and nestle into the armchair opposite, tucking my legs beneath me.
He blows on a spoonful of porridge before taking a tentative bite. His eyes widen slightly. “What’d you put in this?”
“Cinnamon, honey, and…” I flash a grin. “Magic.”
He snorts, almost choking on his food. “You always feed strangers?”
“No. You’re my first, actually.”
“First?”
“First rescue.” Flames lick up my neck. “Not first… whateveryouthought.”
He takes another spoonful, his gray eyes never leaving mine. That unwavering stare makes my skin prickle.
“What?” I touch my face. “Is there porridge on my chin?”
“Actually, there is something on your face.” He taps below his eye.
I wipe under my right eye, feeling the gritty texture of yesterday’s glitter. “Better?”
“You missed it. It’s all…” He waves his spoon in circles around his entire face.
“It’s glitter eyeshadow. It’s supposed to be there.” I shove another spoonful into my mouth.
