Page 41 of Jordan

“Are you saying I can’t have a snack?” I raise a brow.

“Mr. Bramante said you’re allowed to eat anything you’d like.”

“How nice of him,” I say as sweetly as I can. “So why are you staring at me like I’m doing something wrong?”

She holds my stare. “Because dinner will be ready soon.”

“And you care about that, why?”

“The staff in this house spend a lot of time ensuring things are done as Mr. Bramante likes. Meaning Kat, the cook, spends hours preparing meals and it would be quite rude to spoil your appetite over having no self-control.”

No self-control? She thinks I have no self-control?

I’ll show her no self-control.

I slam the fridge door so hard the jars on the inside door rattle and leave the kitchen.

“This house blows!”

Chapter Nineteen

Jordan

A knock on the door has me stirring awake. I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep. But I guess throwing a fit and crying hysterically over your life sucking will do that to you. I lift my head and look around the dark room. It’s late. How long have I been sleeping?

“Miss Delise?” The muffled voice sounds from the other side of the door, but I’m still groggy and can’t make out who it is.

“Yeah?” I call out, stuffing my face back into the pillow.

“Dinner is ready.”

I recognize the voice now as Bernice’s.

Of course it’s Bernice.

Bernice the babysitter.

Bernice can go fuck herself.

“Not hungry!” I call out.

“Mr. Bramante said it’s non-negotiable.”

“Mr. Bramante can kiss my ass!” I shout.

“I’ll let him know,” she says with a hint of mischief, as if she’s thrilled to tell him I’m being disobedient. As if he doesn’t know this is how I’m going to be for, well, forever.

I shake my head, close my eyes, and settle back in. The bed is warm and soft. I could sleep for days. My body completely relaxes, and I drift back to sleep. Until something resembling the Kool-Aid man barreling into my room jolts me upright.

It’s Enzo, face hard as stone, storming into my room and damn near taking the door off the hinges in the process.

“When I say non-negotiable, I mean non-negotiable.”

Shit.

Enzo yanks the blankets off me. The chill of the cool air from the air conditioner causes my skin to pebble with goosebumps. It’s much colder in this house than I’m used to, and I don’t like it. Which makes my bed so much more comfortable, considering it gives me the warmth I seek. I don’t want to use Enzo’s credit card for more clothing—I want nothing from him other than my freedom—but I may have to. There aren’t many clothes in my wardrobe meant to keep me warm enough for this house. I’ve already added all the blankets I could find to my bed, but even walking around isn’t comfortable. I feel like I need to dress for a winter snowstorm.

“Go away!” I scream, reaching for my blankets.