Page 134 of Heresy

Something.

But Brinley does nothing. She simply unbuckles her seatbelt, steps out of the car and waits for me to join her.

I’m suspicious the entire walk to the building. Half expecting her to slam the door in my face, I make sure to reach it first and open it for her.

Gentleman and all.

She says nothing, just walks in and moves to the stairs, once again waiting for me to catch up.

Cocking a brow at that, I’m becoming more anxious. This girl doesn’t just give in. She has a plan. I’m sure of it.

We ascend the stairs then make our way to her room. I hand her the keys I’d grabbed from her bag back when I took her. Here’s where she’ll say something.

Glare.

Insult me.

Anything.

But she simply takes them from me, unlocks her door then hands them back.

My suspicion rises to a level where I expect an attack at any moment. Even for her, this is weird.

Once we’re inside, she excuses herself to use the bathroom, and no… Not happening. I assume there’s a window she can jump out of, maybe a fire escape or trellis she can use to climb down the building.

I race in ahead of her to check.

Nothing.

Just four solid walls and the usual bathroom shit.

“Satisfied?” she asks, annoyance written all over her face.

I smile. “Just making sure nobody is in here who plans to jump out at you.”

Brinley doesn’t buy the lie.

“Uh-huh. Well, as you can see, the coast is clear. So can I pee now? Or do you have a bucket handy for me to use? I know you like to keep an eye on things.”

Challenging her suggestion, I lean against the doorway.

“You can use the toilet. I’ll just stay right here.”

That adorable glare of hers is back, and I love it even more now than I did before. Resisting the urge to pull out my phone and snap a picture as a keepsake, I grin and step away from the door.

“Things look safe enough. You can piss in private.”

“Oh, thank you, Lord Master.”

I’m not sure, but I believe that was sarcasm in her voice. I receive another glare just before she slams the door in my face. The lock clicking in place is the cherry on top of that fuck you sundae.

Laughing to myself, I look around her small room and decide to make myself at home.

Curious about the baggy clothes she always wears, I move over to the closet and pull open the door.

Just like I thought … a bunch of T-shirts on hangers and folded jeans on the top shelf.

It’s pathetic.

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