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Silence.

I snap my fingers. “Hello?”

His eyes don’t move from whatever he’s staring at outside.

“You’re really gonna ignore me?”

He finally turns his attention to me. “When you ask stupid questions, yeah. I am.”

I glare as hard as I can. “I’m hungry.”

“Then order something,” he says, glaring right back.

“Youdo it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Your fingers broke?”

“I want you to order me some food,” I snap. “It’s the least you can do. I wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you.”

“True,” he says, his voice going cold. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d already be dead.”

That shuts me up.

I stare at him, my heart pounding. “Why didn’t you just kill me?”

His lips part, but he closes them again, thinks for a moment, and then, “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

I want him to say more. I need him to. I need to hear that he’s attracted to me. I need to hear that he saw something in me that’s worth saving.

Instead, he mumbles something about, “doing the right thing.”

I laugh bitterly. “Like you know what that is. You’re obviously some kind of CIA assassin or ex-black ops mercenary doing the government’s dirty work. You don’t even know what right means at this point.”

He stares me down, his lips tight, his jaw clenched. “Yeah, let’s talk about dirty. You know as well as I do that you’re sitting up here playing innocent. You’re hiding your dirt from me, Sable. But you should know, I always find out. Always.”

“Whatever.” My pulse spikes again. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

He smirks, and it’s infuriating.

I stand. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Thanks for the update.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever, Wall-E. There better be food here when I get out.”

His eyes follow my short walk to the bathroom. I close the door behind me, shaking my head because he has me rattled, and it doesn’t have anything to do with what he said. It’s what he didn’t say. It’s his presence. It’shim.

The bathroom is hot and steamy within seconds of me stepping into the shower. I stand with my body under the spray, letting the water pound against my skin, my thoughts spiraling. I can’t stop thinking about him. The way he protected me earlier. The way he wiped my tears. Let me lean on him.

My hand slides down my stomach. I bite my lip as my fingers find the sweet spot—the place that’s been throbbing ever since he kissed me. The place that aches for him. I haven’t wanted anyone this badly since I was fifteen years old. But this is deeper and darker, and it feels bigger and more dangerous.

And I want it anyway.

I’m wound up, but ten minutes and no satisfaction later, I give up. I want the real thing, even though it feels impossible at this point.

I exit the bathroom wrapped in my robe, smiling at the smell of french fries and charred meat. A cheeseburger and fries sits on the table.