“I-I was just looking for something to eat, obviously.”
He tilts his head to the side, watching me. “You just said you weren’t hungry.”
“Sorry, you caught me off guard. I meant yes.” I’m practically falling over myself, trying to correct my epic errors. “Yes. I’m hungry.”
A smirk spreads across his face, and I want to smack him. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” I say with a bite.
“Well then, you probably would like to know where the fridge is…or maybe the pantry?”
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb, Sasha.
I allow myself to look around the space, and that’s when I notice that I am nowhere near either one of them, making my excuse just that—an excuse.
“What are you really doing here, firefly?”
I cross my arms over my chest in a protective move. “I’m hungry.” I huff.
“Then let me make you something to eat,” he says, making his way toward the refrigerator.
“What? Why?” My head shakes back and forth, and he stops to look back toward me.
“You said you were hungry, and the chef isn’t here.” He shrugs. “So that leaves me to ensure my guest is fed.”
He’s trying to call me on my bluff. He knows it. I know it.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I take a step back, putting distance between us. “I’m fine. You’d probably poison me anyway.”
“Why would I go through all the trouble to keep you safe just to turn around and try to kill you?”
“Why do you kill people, period?” I snap, earning an eye roll from him.
“I’ll make us sandwiches; that’s easy,” he says, not bothering to reply to my accusation.
“I don’t need anything from you. And I definitely don’t need your protection. All of this”—I wave my hand in the air around me—“is too much. Let me go home.”
“We’ve been over this. I’m starting to sound like a broken record. Dangerous men want you dead. That’s not going to happen. I promised your brother I’d protect you, and until I find out what they want from you and why, I’m keeping you here. Safe.”
“No need. I absolve you of any responsibility. I’ll just get my things…” I turn to walk away, but Gideon reaches out, his hand wrapping gently around my bicep. It’s a soft hold, but it feels heavier as I turn to look at him over my shoulder. His gaze is steady and hard.
“I made a promise, and I keep my promises. Iwillkeep you safe, firefly.”
My shoulders straighten, and I call on any courage I possess to plead my case.
“Am I to be kept as a prisoner as some misguided attempt to honor the request of a man who didn’t even care about me?” I hiss back. “Because he didn’t. Roman used me time and time again.”
“If keeping you a prisoner is the only way you will stay, then yes. So be it.” He chews on his cheek, and the move is somehow boyish and sexy all at once.
From where I’m standing, I glower at him, but I can’t think of a response.
Truth be told, I can’t think over the pounding of my heart. It beats so hard and fast; I wonder if he can hear it.
Can he see the way he’s affecting me?
If so, it’s not noticeable, as he’s too wrapped up in what he’s doing.
What is he doing?