Page 38 of Wicked Little Game
“Thought you had a good time when you came all over yourself the last time I had my hands on you, but well, guess I got a wrong impression.”
I glare up at Samuel, unable to readhisexpression because of that godforsaken mask and because he has that Terminator stare perfected while every single one of my emotions is laidbare on my face. His hand on my shoulder twitches slightly, and I wonder if he’s angry.
“Please, don’t make this even worse,” he says, his voice soft and calm. I didn’t expect that. I thought he’d yell at me or hold me one of his lectures again, but he’s empathetic — for Sam-standards — and I don’t know what to make of it.
“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea, this—,” he gestures between him and me, “this won’t work. Whatever you are looking for, I’m not the one to give it to you. This right here is my job, and I’m too old for you either way.”
The smile is long gone from my face, replaced by confusion and annoyance.
Too old. That deserves a special place on the list of reasons someone rejected me. It’s a short list because I rarely get rejected.
“God, please, stop it.” I roll my eyes at him, swatting his hand away from my shoulder. “You’re making it look as if I’m in love, as if I’d want a relationship or something like that.” I laugh, one of those cold, mean girl laughs I heard the last time during high school. I don’t like this version of me, but I also don’t want to admit that I’m hurt.
“You can calm down. I just wanted some fun,” I yell back down as I walk up the stairs. Samuel stands down there like he’s frozen in place, and I’m embarrassed that I am once again the delusional idiot in this house.
“And keep an eye on the mozzarella sticks in the oven. I don’t want to hear the fucking fire alarm again.”
With that, I slam my door shut. The first time this week.
16
SAMUEL
Ruby is obviously mad at me, which I can’t understand. I did nothing wrong. I was goddamn nice to her even after she snuck out, got drunk, and got me so riled up that I had to put my hands on her. If anything, I should be the one with the right to be mad.
I could have gladly ignored all of this, could have acted like last night was just a shared fragment of imagination, but she had to bring it up. And now that I, very politely, told her what I did, she leaves me standing down here like I read something into all of this.
This whole situation reaches a new degree of stupidity every day.
Somehow, I feel like I brought home a problematic one-night stand, with the slight difference that I didn’t even fuck her. And that neither she nor I can leave this house, and this situation, for the time being.
A lose-lose situation, really.
Good, thetoo-oldexcuse wasn’t the best one, but what was the other option?
It’s not like I can say:Look, Ruby, I want to fuck you. Ireally do. Hell, I want to fuck you on every surface this house, this entire world has to offer, but I can’t because I’m not even a real bodyguard. No, I’m here for a fucking mission that will probably end with me putting a bullet in your father’s head, and I don’t know if you would want to fuck me after that.
From what I’ve seen of the relationship between Ruby and her dad so far, I’m not entirely sure if me killing him would be a problem for her, but it doesn’t matter. Telling her all of this it’s not an alternative. It’s also just my dick getting the best of me.
The last time I slept with someone was more than a year ago, with I-don’t-want-to-think-about-her, so of course my body reacts this way if I’m locked in a house with an, admittedly, hot Ruby who tries every trick in the book to seduce me.
Physical attraction, horribly strong, but nothing more than that.
Being with Ruby isn’t good for me. I know this because my body yearns for everything that will destroy me in the long run.
With a slight panic washing over me, I think back to the mozzarella sticks in the oven. Not my first choice of dinner for tonight, but it’s probably a bad idea to ask Ruby if she’s going to cook.
The sticks kind of exploded in the oven; cheese pools around the breading and I take them out before they begin to burn. I put the cheese massacre on a plate and decide to eat outside in the garden.
Ruby won’t try to run off, and if she does, she won’t get far. After she was out cold last night, I came back to her room. God knows why.
I stared at her, contemplating if I should stay with her, just for that one night, and just because—but then I realized that this idea was more than bad, so instead, I got a hold of her phone to install a tracker. Just in case she tries to runoff again.
I had to move her head to unlock her phone, and she snuggled against my hand. She’s way too adorable when she sleeps and I felt horrible when I pulled my hand away.
And yes, I know that this was an invasion of her privacy, but she also came to my room at night like a creep, so we’re quits now. Looking through her contacts and her messages wasn’t necessary to install the tracker, but my curiosity got the best of me.
Scrolling through all of her contacts would have taken me at least twenty minutes, but then I looked at her messages. And those were the exact opposite. Only two names showed up, Dominic’s being one of them.
