Page 43 of Made in Malice

“You said you wanted to talk,” I remind him.

“You were all smiles in there, flirting with everyone.” Lucian takes a step forward, and I’m forced to move along with him or risk being dragged.

“I was not flirting. I was working,” I argue, even though I shouldn’t need to defend myself. “Did you come here to critique how I do my job?”

“I didn’t hear you complaining when that old man called you darlin’,” he chastises, moving deeper into the parking lot.

“I know you hit your head in that accident, but did it knock something loose in there?”

When his hand shifts up as if he might cover my mouth again, I lift mine to block him and say, “No!”

He pauses for a second, then whispers, “Nobody tells me no,” near my ear.

“Well, I do.”

“And it’s infuriating,” he grumbles.

“What do you want?” We’re getting closer to my car. The keys are in my pocket, and he’s so close to me, all he would have to do is touch the handle and the door would unlock. What if he really is going to kill me?

“To talk.”

“If you just want to talk, then why are you holding onto me like I’m your shield in a hostage negotiation?”

“Because I don’t trust you not to run,” he counters. Does he really think this is all okay in his head?

I’m looking down at the door handle of my SUV, trying to come up with a plan that gets me inside but locks him out, when Lucian turns me and pushes me up against the car parked next to me. I let out a little oof from the shock, which gives him enough time to open the door and push me into the front passenger seat of an unfamiliar black SUV.

I end up half over the center console with my rump in the air when I kneel on the seat, but he quickly slams the door behind me. I reach across the driver’s seat to slam my hand down on the door lock, but he just makes a face at me like he’s questioning my mental acuity before climbing in the car, forcing me back into my own seat or risk having my face too close to his.

The locks engage before a hushed silence falls inside the car. “Has anyone ever told you that you are exhausting?” I narrow my eyes on him. Despite everything he’s put me through, there’s some crazy part of me that can’t wrap my head around him actually willfully hurting me physically. I can’t even understand why he hates me so badly.

“Not until after I fuck them,” he counters crassly.

“Oh, give me a break.”

“You asked.” He shrugs.

“Look, I’m tired. Tell me what you want this time so I can go to bed.”

Lucian’s hands grip the top of the steering wheel tightly, making the leather creak in response. “How much do you know about the people you’re living with?”

“Rory and Astrid?” I want to make sure he’s not talking about one of the many people who seem to reside on the property.

He nods once instead of speaking.

“Why?”

“Why not just answer?” He turns to the side, leaning against the door a little. At least he’s not driving away and leaving me on the side of the road somewhere.

“Fine, if it will get me out of this car soon, whatever. I don’t know them very well, happy?”

“No, how are you related to them?”

“They are my grandparents. Why does this matter?”

“Where are your parents then?”

“Dead,” I reply flatly, and he flinches as if I surprised him.

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