He placed two plastic containers with clear lids next to the bag. “And this shit is actually edible.” Annnd back to reality.
I rolled my eyes, then took a seat on one of the metal barstools around the kitchen island. The most delicious-smelling French toast I’d ever seen in my life attacked my senses when I pulled the lid off. Thick slices covered in powdered sugar with crispy slices of bacon on the side. I opened the little round container of syrup and poured it on top. My mouth watered just looking at it.
Chandler sat on the stool beside me. “I promise it’s not poisoned.”
I lifted a brow as I unwrapped my plastic silverware. “Says anyone who’s ever tried to poison someone.”
He cut off a corner of his toast, swirled it around in the syrup, then held his fork at my mouth. “Here. You can have mine.”
I froze, remembering last time he held something to my lips. His mere presence bled heat through my veins.
There was a challenge in his eyes, as if he felt it, too. He dragged the fork across my lips, smearing syrup and powdered sugar on my mouth. Then he did the same to himself. “There. Now we die together.”
Like Romeo and Juliet.
Oh my god. I’d officially lost my damn mind. This wasn’t romance. It was insanity. An hour ago, I wanted to run from him. Now, I wanted to taste the sugar on his lips.
His tongue darted out, running over his bottom lip, lapping up the sweet white powder. He brought the fork back to me. His intense stare never faltered. “Eat.”
I leaned in, lips parted, mouth open, tongue ready. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to. We were drawn together like two magnets.
Chandler pushed the fork into my mouth and watched with a heated stare as I chewed. Then he reached over and cut off a corner of my toast, and then popped it in his mouth. A ghost of a smile touched his lips as he chewed, the first genuine one I’d seen since I got here. That smile melted every inch of my soul.
My heart was a mess.
Swishing.
Pounding.
Thundering.
I was way too raw, too vulnerable right now. It was too fresh, too overwhelming. It seemed pointless to pretend that what just happened didn’t happen.
I took another bite. “I know you said not to ask you anything more, but—”
He set his fork down. “Are we really going to do this again?”
“We’ll do it as many times as it takes.” I set my fork down, too. “And I think after… everything… I deserve some answers.”
His jaw clenched as he breathed out through his nose. “You’ve got to be the most stubborn goddamn masochist I’ve ever met.” He leaned against the back of the barstool and met my stare. “Your father and a man named Malcolm Huntington belong to an organization.” He paused, “They call it a Brotherhood. And in this brotherhood, these men do some fucked-up shit…” Another pause, longer this time. “To young girls.”
My stomach dropped, and I swallowed the urge to throw up. No. No way. Not my da. “You’re lying.”
He arched a brow. “Am I?” Chandler had done a lot of things to me since I got here, but the one thing he’d never done was lie. That was Grey.
I sat here motionless, staring at the French toast but not seeing it. “What kind of things?” The air closed in around me, suffocating me in a dark, thick cloud. I couldn’t breathe.
“The kind of things that would give someone like you nightmares if you knew.” He scooted the stool away from the counter. The metal legs scraped against the floor. “So, leave it the fuck alone.”
I hopped off my barstool, standing to face him. “That doesn’t explain why I’m here.” I heard the tremble in my own voice. “Why did you takeme?”
“We took you to give him an ultimatum. Stop doing what he’s doing with the girls, and we’ll send you home.”
In any other story, that would’ve made him a hero—taking a hostage to save innocent young girls. But this was my story, and I was the hostage. Chandler wasn’t my hero.
“Yesterday… in my room… that was to punish him. You wanted to hurt him by punishing me.”
“Something like that.”