Page 48 of Wilt

“No.”

“Your ass… bothering you?”

“I’m fine.”

He just smirks, and breakfast with him continues to be a weird mix of surreal and normal. It makes my head spin. Of course, my stomach growls. Almost immediately, Sylvie comes in with a tray of toast, fruit preserves, and butter and sets it down with the same tremble as she moves closer to Nikolai.

He barely notices her, except for a murmured thanks.

I reach for toast, making a show of buttering and slathering it with raspberry preserve that comes in a fancy pot. Suddenly, I stop, because he’s looking at me. “Should I have asked first?”

He’s not just looking. No, he’sstaringat me, and I pull my hands back.

“Just… observing.” I glance at him and a smug smile I don’t trust blooms on his face. “Pleasant dreams?” he asks.

Now, I pick up my toast and take a vicious little bite, then another bite, just as violent. “I don’t remember.”

He just laughs. “You look like you might have had some very satisfying ones.”

I feel my face go beet red. “I’m not telling you about any of my dreams.”

He nods with a condescending smirk. “Were they? Satisfying?”

Heat hits my face again and I take another bite. The preserves with the creamy butter are divine and not something I’d ever pick. Normally, I’m out the door with a breakfast bar or low-cal cereal. “I don’t remember.”

“Liar,” he says, so soft I just might have imagined it. Without warning, he seems to shift focus back to his iPad. He swipes at the screen; the only way I know it’s on is the changing light hitting his face. He’s got it angled so I can’t see, or maybe that’s just how he likes to hold it. “Got any favorite meals, Rose?”

“Burgers.” It comes out almost immediately and shame washes over me. Could I sound more like a child? A gauche one?

“Just burgers?” His voice is laced with lazy humor.

I look around, like I’m thinking. Iamthinking, but it’s also a good way to get a lay of the land, even though I know there’s no way out. There’s another door at the far end of the large dining room I didn’t see before. It’s shut, the dark wood fitting with the beautiful dining table and the elegant chairs with their coppery-orange velvet seats. It’sallelegant, simple in those same neutral tones that lean towards dark and warmth. It tells me a man lives here, one with taste and power, one who doesn’t need to splash it around. Actually, that’s the vibe I get from everything I’ve seen of this mansion. Understated elegance with just the right amount of gravitas.

He’s looking at me, waiting.

I swallow, wrapping my hand around the glass of water next to my plate. “I like lots of things. I don’t like offal, though.”

“Steak? Pasta? Asian? French?”

I shrug. “All of it, really. I’m… I’m willing to try new things.”

He smirks almost joyfully. “Oh, I know. I was talking about food.”

Pressing my lips together, I don’t say a word. That smug smile grows a little.

“Tell you what, Rose. If you promise to behave, I’ll take you out for lunch today. Would you like that?”

“McDonald’s?” I take my time with my answer, not because I’ve got an urge to visit the golden arches, but because of what I think he’s saying. Even if I loved Big Macs, there’s no way in hell he’d take me there. He’s offering me… what? An outing? A drive-thru? Something public or confined?

“No. Somewhere good.”

I stare at him, my mind whirling with plans of escape. “In public?”

“Yes.” He watches me with his eyebrow raised. “Like an actual restaurant.”

Keeping my hands on the table, I clench them, since I think they might be shaking, and I nod. Oh, God. If I play this right, I can run off, get away, shout for help, find someone to give me a phone and call the police. He can’t do anything in public if I do that, he—

“Little Rose.” Nikolai rises, reaches to get something from the other side and walks over to me, crouching and holding out a rose. He may be a little below me, yet he still seems to tower over me, filling the space around me. Somehow, he invades my cells, and I can’t breathe as he hands me the rose.

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