Page 16 of Worth

Zander’s lips twitch. “Probably not.”

I roll my eyes. “You know, you can’t lock me in here and not feed me.”

His eyes lose all humor. “Aiden hasn’t fucking fed you?” he hisses.

My laugh starts as a snicker, then turns into a full-on belly laugh, complete with tears streaming down my face. “You putAidenin charge of feeding me? Zander, really?”

Lips twitching again, he grasps the doorknob behind him. “Will you try to run if I let you out of here?”

I wipe at my cheeks, still chuckling. “Where am I going to go? I have no money, nowhere to go, and no one to go to.”

That seems to satisfy his highness and he opens the door, beckoning for me to follow him. I do because—well, because I’m pretty certain he’s taking me to food.

I glance around as we move toward the stairs, taking in everything I missed while I was hurling books at Aiden when he brought me up here. The loft area is small, with only a few armchairs and ceiling height bookcases set on either side of the fireplace, the shelves lined with hundreds of books. For all that the outside of the house looks like it could fall down any moment, the inside is clean and well-kept, and one could even say...homey.

Zander gestures toward the kitchen when we arrive downstairs, perching in a chair at the counter. I waste no time, diving into the fridge and walk-in pantry, digging through them until I have an armful of things to make the biggest sandwich known to man. Dean Winchester would be proud of this sandwich—complete with three different lunchmeats, bacon, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, nacho cheese Doritos, nestled between two thick pieces of sourdough slathered with cream cheese. It’s weird as fuck, but I also don’t care. It’s everything I haven’t been allowed to have in years.

I finally set myself at the bar next to Zander, my sandwich and a glass of milk in front of me. My first bite makes me moan as I crunch through the chips, the flavors exploding on my tongue. It’s twice as good as the greasy burger Aiden got for me yesterday. I make another noise that borders on sounding like a curse as I take another bite.

“How well did you know Stephen Vetella?”

I choke on my bite at Zander’s abrupt question. I shoot daggers at him with my eyes as I sip at my milk to help wash down my food. I’m also grateful for the extra time, carefully thinking through my options on how to answer.

“I didn’t know him that well,” I say when I’ve swallowed, shrugging.

Zander leans back, crossing his arms and studying me. “Lie,” he replies easily.

I take a small bite of my sandwich and chew thoroughly. “I didn’t.”

“We both know you lived in his house for more than a year.”

“And?” I snap. “Just because I lived there doesn’t mean I ever saw him.”

But I had, and I did, and by the way Zander’s look is turning icy, I’m guessing he knows that too. He stays quiet though, allowing me to finish my sandwich. As soon as I wipe the last crumb from the plate, licking it off on my finger, Zander lunges for me. His fingers bite into my upper arm as he yanks me out of my chair and stoops over so he’s firmly in my face.

I don’t have time to react before he snatches me up, so I just go totally still. Lifting my chin like I did earlier, I meet his eyes and set my jaw, unwilling to back down.

Zander jerks me toward him, even though I’m already damn near plastered against him. “You lie to me one more time, I’m going to spank your ass red.”

I blink. “You’ll...spank me?”

My heart thunders in my chest and I feel a little sick to my stomach as I realize that I’mnotopposed to that. But I’m not on board for it either. My body is definitely as confused, unable to decide if it wants Zander’s hand on it in any way it can get it, or not at all. I curl my lip to cover my discomfort.

“I’m going to ask one last time, Blake.” A shiver runs down my spine at the threat in his voice. “How well did you know Stephen Vetella?”

The part of me that refuses to bend to another human being rears its head. “I. Didn’t,” I bite out.

Zander’s fingers tighten and then relax, and I smirk at him as he lets go of me. I turn on my heel, headed back for the room they locked in me because I don’t know where else to go. But my grin doesn’t fade. Called his fucking bluff, didn’t I?

I make it three steps before a hand seizes my braid and wrenches my head back. I screech, clawing at Zander’s hand as he drags me back towards the kitchen.

“I warned you, Blake,” Zander rumbles, shoving me down so my cheek is pressed against the cold granite countertop. I grip the edge, trying to use it as leverage to force my way up, but Zander tightens his grip on my hair and holds me down.

“Get off of me!” I scream, trying to donkey kick the shit out of him.

A loud crack echoes in the kitchen, and I freeze. My ass cheek hurts where he slapped it through my cargo pants, turning into a stinging that makes my eyes water. Before I can go back to trying to twist away from him, he spanks my ass again, on the opposite cheek. I go up on my tiptoes with a hiss of pain.

“How well did you know Stephen Vetella?” Zander asks, sounding so casual that it’s almost like we’re having this conversation over coffee. Not my ass.

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