Page 57 of Sweetheart: Part One

“The top shelf never gets enough attention.” He waved across the room, and I followed his gaze to the cabinet full of trophies and awards. “There’s some rags in the bathroom. Grab the ones on the top shelf and polish them.”

I nodded curtly, getting back to my feet.

It wasn’t until I tried to reach for the trophies that I realised what his game was. On my tiptoes, hand outstretched, my dressing gown rode all the way up.

Finally, I dared glance back to see he was unabashedly watching as I struggled.

Well, the fucking joke was on him. I wanted him obsessed with me.I wanted him unable to take his eyes from me.

Yet, neither that, nor my Alastor mantra helped as I flashed my golden lace panties and struggled to reach the trophies on the top shelf.

Finally, he got to his feet and approached with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Bonus points for the show,” he said, handing me the trophies one by one until my arms were full. I gave him a bitter smile.

Without a word, I set them down on the couch, but he beckoned me closer. “Do it right here so I can see you don’t damage them,” he said, nodding toward the spot on the floor before him. I fought another flare of rage.

I was doing this without argument.

I would give him everything he asked for. So I kept my expression neutral as I set the four trophies down on the carpet and got on my knees.

“I’d prefer a better view,” he said mildly.

I swallowed back my snarl, staring at him for a long moment as his eyes drifted back up from the neck of my closed dressing gown.

You know what?

Good.

He was never going to get me out of his head. I’d haunt his fucking dreams. With another false smile, I tugged open my dressing gown enough to show a peek of the golden lace top.

He smirked as he watched, then turned his attention back to the TV.

On my knees, I polished the trophies until there wasn’t an ounce of dust, and they shined back at me.

“There. Done,” I said at last, setting the final one down.

He tilted his head, examining them. “Give them another round.”

“They’re fucking done,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Not till I say so.”

This felt frighteningly close to Alastor.

There was a difference.

Therehadto be a difference. With Alastor, it was punishment. Rook was testing me. He was pushing every boundary he could in order to find out where I’d settle.

And he was learning I had none.

He was learning just how fucking desperate I was.

Only, he thought it meant I was desperateforhim. A fan. Obsessed. Not running from the sharp end of a dark bond.

“What did Love want you to do?” Rook asked as I reached the third golden trophy again.

“I…” I shook my head. “I told you what I did for him, but I’m not saying a word about him.”

Rook’s eyebrows rose as he considered me. Finally, he shrugged, and I didn’t get the impression that my response made him unhappy.

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