Page 15 of Selling Innocence

He confused me more than anyone else, the difference between how he’d behaved before striking from how he acted now. Dane had taught me to catch lies, to spot masks, and I wasn’t horrible at reading people, so how had he tricked me so well?

Because you wanted him to be that other person.

“Stop sighing,” Char snapped.

“Sorry—I’ll try not to breathe.”

He snorted. “Sounds like a plan.”

The insults that swirled in my head were all Dane’s. He’d taught me that swearing was an art, that to do it well, a person needed to mix both vulgar and non-vulgar words. I’d gotten pretty good at it, but I kept them to myself.

Pissing off Char any more than my mere existence seemed to wouldn’t help me a bit.

Finally, we reached the stairs. From there, I peered around at the open space and layout. A set of stairs went to the next floor up, and this one opened in two directions. I hadn’t reached the stairs again, which meant the two wings must connect elsewhere, too.

Did that mean Hayden and Vance lived on the third floor?

“Hurry up,” Char said, already halfway down the staircase.

I grasped the railing and rushed down, having to grab the waist of the boxers part way down when they started to slip. Still worth it to wear them.

I stayed a few steps behind Char until we reached the living room, the space the same as when I’d been here the night before.

At least, I thought it was. The truth was that I’d been so flustered I didn’t recall much about it. The room was huge, lined with large windows that opened to a backyard with a deck. Toward the other direction was a large double door that had to be the front of the house. That side lacked windows—a smart safety measure to ensure privacy.

I caught a glimpse of a kitchen with white marble countertops and stainless-steel appliances to the side, though it was set pretty far back and surrounded by cabinets. It all confirmed that this space was made for visitors and company. In fact, it felt so familiar that a part of me wondered if I’d been here before.

No, it just looks like every other mansion my father rented.

“So we’re all up?” Hayden walked in, a bowl in his hands.

“Aren’t you quite the tease?” Vance’s voice came from just behind me, close enough that his breath warmed the nape of my neck. “Wearing men’s clothing like that? You surely know what that does to a man…”

My cheeks heated but I stayed still, unwilling to address his stupidity. Vance seemed the sort of man who enjoyed the game more than the prize. The last thing I needed was to interest him any farther by playing hard to get.

“Knock it off,” Hayden said before handing me the bowl he held, then pressed my arm as he gestured toward the couch.

“You need to have more fun.” Vance’s voice held a pout though he didn’t follow me.

Did that mean Hayden was in charge?

“I have plenty of fun.” The deadpan delivery of those words from Hayden made me fight a smile, thinking back on the Quad, on Bray and Colton who were masters of that dry humor.

And as soon as I thought about them, a pain in my chest made me admit just how much I missed them. They were difficult and caused me more than a few problems, but they were also some of the only family I had.

I took the seat, then peered down at my bowl. Scrambled eggs with mushrooms and cheese. I was beyond thrilled not to find something sugary where I had to worry or avoid it to start with. The first bite showed they were perfectly cooked and seasoned.

Tor walked in and glanced at me then Hayden. He pressed his lips together, then left the room for a moment. When he returned, he had a second bowl of food and handed it to Hayden.

Did Hayden give me his own bowl, then?

I opened my mouth to thank him but shut it just as quickly. Drawing attention would probably only make him mad, or he might mock me, making it clear that he wasn’t doing it for me.

Instead, I ate quietly as the others took their seats. Char had coffee, Hayden and Tor ate, and Vance had made some sort of green breakfast smoothie that he drank out of a mason jar with a straw.

No one spoke at first, and each passing second drew the tension tighter. It almost felt like a family breakfast, but we weren’t family. They were men who had bought me like a piece of property and me? I was the unlucky girl who’d found herself in a cage.

And I still had no idea why. If they knew who I was, they’d have said my real name at the auction, wouldn’t they? That was my main selling point—my blood, my family history.

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