Page 42 of The Right Wrong Promise

“Mice?” I turn the word over like tasteless chewing gum.

“Yep. Big dumb mice. I haven’t been here in a while, but years ago there used to be some issues—not just this room, most of this floor sometimes. I had to make sure they didn’t come back.”

I blink at her, wary.

There might be some truth to it.

I can believe this old house has had mice over the years, and there’s an edge of sincerity in her voice that her last pathetic excuse lacked. That also explains the tapping on the walls—but not everything.

The way she holds herself gives away the half-truth.

The prolonged eye contact.

The self-deprecation that’s supposed to be shame and worry but feels like another way she’s covering.

No, I don’t trust this Blackthorn brat.

And if she’s going to be any kind of role model to Sophie, however temporary—whether I like it or not—then I need her to knock it off.

Just like I need to know how much I can trust her while she’s sharing a roof with my kids.

Right now, the only thing she’s done that screams good faith was allowing us to stay, and she could have any number of reasons for that.

Not all of them pure.

Everyone’s allowed their little secrets, fine. Hell, it’s not like I don’t have them falling out of my ears.

Only, the second you start compromising my privacy and acting sly about it, you cross a red line.

Margot hasn’t just crossed it.

She’s trying to erase it with both feet.

“If any pest issues turn up, tell me right away,” I demand.

Her eyes widen.

It’s like someone hooked a live wire straight into my gut.

Everything tenses.

I want to see it in her eyes when she realizes what messing with me could cost her.

I’m not a man you dick around with, and I don’t care if it’s a pretty face doing the dicking.

Instead of backing down, her chin tilts up as I step forward, and a shadow crosses her eyes.

Awareness, maybe. A frosted hint of defiance.

“Kane,” she whispers, moistening her lower lip with her tongue. I stare at it for a fraction of a second that’s already too long.

Goddamn.

“I mean it, woman. If there’s a mouse problem big enough to send you knocking around my room, I deserve to know. They carry diseases. I can help get rid of them.”

“Okay, yeah. And again, I didn’t touch any of your stuff,” she says quietly.

“Not the point.”