Page 51 of Iris' Lying Eyes

Chapter Eleven

I’m sitting on the counter in the kitchen and drinking a coffee when Bastion appears. He eyes me coolly before grabbing my cup and taking a sip.

Smiling sourly, I mutter, “What’s with all the empty rooms?”

Shrugging, he sets my cup on the counter and glances out the window. A large fountain sparkles beyond the glass, but the water is green and filled with algae beneath the surface.

“Seriously, though. Where’s all the furniture?”

Bastion sighs and turns to me before saying, “When the old man died, the place was cleared out.”

“Okay, but you’re here now?”

Shrugging again, he stalks to the door. “I don’t plan on being here long enough.”

With that, he exits, and I stare after him. What the fuck does that mean?

The house? Or the mafia?

Ha! Everyone knows once you’re in, you can never leave.

Shivering, I glance down at the tattoos on my arm and amend my thoughts. It’s almost impossible to leave, but I have every intention of walking away.

My phone buzzes against my ass, and with a spark of hope, I pull it out.

Useless Fucker: You know I’m doing this for both of us. Just a little longer, sweetheart

Huffing out a breath, I mutter profanities as Bastion reappears.

Setting my phone aside, I mutter, “What do you want?”

His eyes drop to my phone and flicker before he grunts, “We’re having a party.”

“Here?” I glance around with wide, exaggerated eyes.

Glowering, he stalks toward me and hands me a credit card. “Furniture. I want it delivered by Friday.”

“You want me to pick out furniture for your house?” I don’t know whether to be flattered or used, so I settle on the latter and raise a brow.

“Fill one of the living areas and the dining room,” he says, completely ignoring my statement.

“Who’s coming?” I ask his retreating back.

“Castinetti. So, make sure you’re appropriately slutty. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Fuck off,” I mutter, curling my fingers around the card.

“I’m good. Thanks.” His voice sails back to me, and I smile.

Oh, you’re going to regret this. Fucker.

Three hours later, I’ve confirmed that his card has no limit. At least not one I’ve reached.

Although I ordered a beautiful, old oak table with fifteen matching chairs and a fancy couch and side tables, I also added to the bill. With any luck, he won’t notice until it all arrives.

I swipe over to another store with a chuckle and study the makeup. Might as well order myself something while I’m here.

Later I’m wandering through the house and envisioning where my new purchases will go when I hear Bastion’s distinctly deep voice rasp, “Mm. You think you can handle me, darlin’?”

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