Page 250 of The Counterfeit Lover

He recognized the precariousness of the moment and the fact that she was still on edge, her entire body wound tight.

She opened her mouth to answer, but instead she just shook her head, shutting him out again.

"Zia," he took a seat next to her, taking her hand and holding it in his. She made to remove it, one sudden movement that was over before it even begun. Somehow, she decided to allow herself that small touch.

She was likely still emotional from the book, Michele told himself. That was why she'd run. He'd caught her in a vulnerable moment and she hadn't wanted him to see her like that.

"Talk to me," he urged softly.

"Why are you here? You've been following me, haven't you?" she asked in a low but even voice.

"You already know the answer."

"Why?"

Slowly, she turned to look at him, giving him the privilege of gazing into those mesmerizing eyes of hers.

"Because everything you do interests me," he replied, almost flippantly.

She flinched, but she quickly masked it.

"I didn't think anything interested you other than your own person," she grumbled under her breath.

He blinked, shocked at her words, before he burst into laughter.

"Well, you can officially add yourself to the list now."

"So you admit you're a self-centered bastard?" She said the words so smoothly and without even blinking that it took Michele wholly by surprise.

"Of course I admit it. I never made a secret of that," he chuckled.

A small smile played at her lips, but she quickly recovered, forcing her mouth in a firm line.

"Why that book?"

"Huh?" Her brows went up in question.

"Why did you skip class to read that book?"

She blinked a couple of times as awareness sunk in. Not only was he aware she'd skipped her class, but he also knew what she'd been listening to.

"Of course you'd send me a Trojan horse," she mumbled.

Michele kept his remark to himself that he was surprised she knew what that was. He was learning to keep a lot of his thoughts to himself because he couldn't have been more wrong about her.

"Tell me about the book, pet," the word slipped from him before he could help himself.

She grimaced at the appellation but she didn't correct him again. She simply stared ahead as she replied to him in the same emotionless tone as before—one belying the emotive display he'd seen only moments before.

"The heroine was relatable," she shrugged, seemingly not going to elaborate more on the topic.

Michele had only heard the end of the audiobook, and even then he'd mostly spaced out as he'd lost himself in watching her. Nonetheless, he remembered some characteristics of the heroine—one being that everyone underestimated her.

And that made him even more curious about what his pet meant.Howdid she relate to the heroine?

He needed to know it all. So he pushed further.

"In what way?"

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