Page 30 of The Villain
“What the hell was that?” she demands.
The soldier closes my door and climbs into the passenger seat. “You’re wearing ballet slippers. Didn’t think you’d want to land on your ass first thing this morning.”
I reach across her and she grips my forearm, pressing her back into the seat. I note the flush of her cheeks and grin as I draw the seatbelt across her chest and click it into place before sitting back myself.
“Do I make you nervous, Moth? Or do you like me being so close?”
She clears her throat, shakes her head. I imagine she hasn’t had much experience with men, but surely some. “I am capable of walking, and I can certainly buckle my own seatbelt.”
She looks down at her feet clad in those ridiculous shoes. Are they even considered shoes? Why does women’s footwear make no sense?
“We’re not blood,” I say, sitting back and buckling my seatbelt as we pull out, one SUV ahead of us and one behind.
“What?”
“Jethro. My father is married to his mother, but we’re not blood.” I’m not sure why I’m explaining this to her.
“Oh. Is your father alive then?”
I nod once.
“Did he send you last night?”
“Excuse me?”
Her forehead furrows and I can tell she’s considering whether or not to continue. “My father had mentioned once that he was sick, so I thought he’d died since it wasyou who came to our house, but you said heismarried to Jethro’s mother. Not was.”
“He’s alive.”
“He can’t be that old.”
“He’s not.”
“What’s your background anyway?”
“Pardon?”
“Your coloring and your eyes.”
I raise my eyebrows as I watch that flush creep up her neck. She’s embarrassed to have asked. I grin. I’ll exploit that.
“Little Moth, do you find me pretty to look at?” I taunt.
She turns away, face bright red now. “The combination is unusual. That’s all. If you’re going to be a jerk, then never mind. Forget I asked.”
I chuckle, reach out to lift a lock of wavy hair.
She slaps my hand away. I lean closer, pick up the smell of my bodywash on her. I like it. I smile. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, Little Moth,” I whisper. “Your wet pussy gave you away last night.”
She turns to shove me, and I laugh outright. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?” she asks.
“I do so I’m going to let that one go,” I say, smiling wide. “Don’t worry, I find you pretty to look at too.” I wink.
“That’s not why… I mean…” She’s clearly flustered. Unused to compliments, I guess. “I wouldn’t care if you thought I was a hag.” She turns away again, clearly uncomfortable and unsure how to handle me. I feel a small pang of guilt. I know how sheltered her father kept her. She’s unused to men.
“My father is Italian, and my mother was Syrian. She passed away a very long time ago,” I give her, sitting back in my seat. I don’t tell her I never got to meet my mother. Never got to hear her voice or see her face. I don’t tell her I’m the reason she’s dead.
The way she looks at me shifts. I turn my gaze out the window as the vehicles pull off the property. I’m about to tell her I don’t need her pity when she speaks.
