Page 33 of Dark OZ

“I probably can’t eat pizza. The grease and my stomach, or something.” I knew heavy, greasy foods were out, thanks to my aunt’s tender, loving care. My throat still burned from when my potato lunch made its reappearance. I really didn’t want a repeat of that experience.

“I don’t see how that’s my problem. After dinner, we can change your dressings, and then I am done playing babysitter for the night. You can tuck yourself into bed.”

Chapter 15

Dorothyglaredatmeover her plate of crumbs. She’d finished the toast she made herself a while ago, but I enjoyed the way her skin flushed when she was angry. Making her wait on me was quickly becoming my new favorite game. Well, besides the one we’d played earlier.Thathad been entirely too much fun and came dangerously close to the edge.

I’d left her raging, and that made it so much harder to get the feel and sound of her out of my head. She’d spread open beneath me in a clear invitation to be wicked. I’d damn near taken that bait.

I couldn’t forget who she was or who shetook from me.

I had three sisters. Had. It was a term I never really accepted, even though I knew it to be true. In my mind, they were still beautiful and young, flower crowns sitting atop their innocent heads while we ran and played in the fields. I closed my eyes before clouds could chase away the warmth of the memory.

The Farm’s files were housed on a closed server, making it impossible for even Crowe to hack them. In the months I spent combing public records, I found enough evidence to know that Emily Rosen was never the true owner of Cyclone Shipping. The entire organization, every debauched inch of it, was in Dorothy’s name. It didn’t matter how pretty those cutting eyes were or how her animosity made them flame brighter.

Princess Rosen wasn’t an option. End of story.

So here I sat, enjoying my pizza like it was a three-course gourmet meal to the delightful sound of her teeth grinding.

“Are we going to always sit in silence?”

“I like silence.”

“Nobody likes silence.” Dorothy got up and began opening all of the cabinets one by one.

“What are you hunting for?”

“Mugs. I was going to make myself a cup of tea. The toast was dry, and all you have in the fridge is beer and an old bottle of soy sauce. I thought mint tea might be good for my stomach. Aha!” she said, triumphantly holding a black ceramic mug aloft.

Dorothy did a small spin on her toes to face the sink. She was uncharacteristically jubilant, smiling genuinely. The transformation was enough to give a man whiplash. Still, her smile was stunning. Until her eyes met mine again, and then her lovely features fell back into a scowl.

“Maybe you only like silence because you’re a terrible conversationalist. You don’t say more than four-word answers unless you’re issuing threats.”

“I’m not a terribleanything. I just don’t need to fill space with mindless chatter.”

“Sure. Let’s go with that.” Dorothy clucked her tongue in disbelief. “Where’s the kettle?”

I leaned back in my chair. “You’re a capable girl. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

She flipped me a middle finger while bending over to check all of the lower cabinets. Damn, her ass looked good in those boxers, and it was only mildly grating that they were Crowe’s and not mine.

She popped back up. “What the hell is this?” Holding Nick’s imported coffee pot aloft, she lifted the triangular lid. Her nose scrunched, confusion pinning her brows together.

“Nick will skin you alive if you break that.”

Slamming it back in the cupboard, she huffed, “Well then, just tell me where the tea kettle is.” Icouldtell her we didn’t have a tea kettle or that the only box of tea was leftover from the previous owners and probably tasted like drinking moldy bark, but this was so much more fun.

“Fuck it.” She filled the mug with water and sat it in the microwave. Yellow light spilled across her face while the mug slowly spun inside. She tapped her fingers against the counter, highlighting her impatience. I could see her trying to hold back, solely to prove my comment about silence wrong.

Dorothy lasted another ten seconds, “Crowe said you met in grade school.”

Speaking of mindless chatter, “Apparently, Crowe says a lot of things.”

“What happened to make him go from being a bully to whateverthisis?” She waved around the room. Sniffing the box of tea, she sighed, “Is this stale box of Earl Grey really the only tea you have?”

“I saved his ass,” I replied, ignoring her spoiled complaints.

There was a long pause. Dorothy’s hazel eyes tightened with annoyance, causing an adorable crease to form at the center of her brow. She waved for me to continue. “And…”

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