Page 79 of Freed
She’s changed into slacks and a blouse, her face scrubbed clean of tears, but she still doesn’t look like herself. Not entirely. Not with that false brown hair muting something essential in her.
I set one of the glasses in front of her. “Tomorrow, we’ll get your hair dyed.”
She looks at the wine first, then at me. “No.”
“Good thing I wasn’t asking.” I nod toward the stool across from me. “Sit. Eat. When you’ve finished, you can make your call.”
She slides onto the stool, stiff-backed and wary. “I don’t want you in the room.”
“Then perhaps,” I say mildly, “you should learn to negotiate your terms better.”
Her arms cross over her chest. “You’re such an asshole.”
I incline my head. “Indeed. Now eat.”
She glares at the sandwich like it has personally offended her.
I lean one hip against the counter. “Something wrong?”
“I don’t like roast beef.”
That pulls a frown from me. “Strange. I have a distinct memory of you eating it.”
“Do you have anything else?”
“In the fridge? Salami.”
The color drains from her face so quickly I straighten.
“I’ll just pull it off,” she says.
My eyes narrow as she peels the meat from the sandwich with careful fingers, like the very sight of it repulses her, then sets it aside in a neat little pile before taking a small bite of bread. After that, she abandons the sandwich entirely and reaches for a carrot.
I watch her crunch into it.
“New diet?”
She glances up. “What?”
I gesture lazily toward the counter, though there is nothing lazy in the way my mind begins fitting pieces together.
“No meat. No wine. Raw vegetables.” I pause. “Very healthy of you.”
“Maybe,” she says, all false sweetness, “I wanted to look good for my wedding.”
The words land like a knife slid between my ribs. I should let the jab pass. I know I should.
Instead, I say, “And did you?”
Her eyes flash. “Excuse me?”
“For the wedding.” I let my gaze sweep over her, slow and deliberate. “Did you look good?”
Her mouth parts. For one beat, she forgets to be angry. Thenher expression hardens, and she pushes the wineglass away from herself with two fingers.
“You’re revolting.”
“And yet,” I murmur, “you let me inside you earlier.”
