Page 11

CHAPTER 11

Haze

The morning sun comes in through the windows, blinding me as I feel for her in my empty arms. I blink. Twice. She’s not here. I pull my pillow closer, inhaling deeply. I swear her sweet scent lingers on the pillowcase. My memory tortures me, playing flashes of her crawling into my bed for no other reason than to seek comfort from me.

I’m a deep sleeper and sometimes wake up not knowing up from down—another reason my dad called me Haze. This is one of those mornings, my mind a dense fog.

She was never in my bed.

Even when my head is clear, the girl has my mind turning like one of those toy tops you twist between your fingers, release, and watch spin right up to the edge of the table before it falls off, hitting the floor.

I’m tumbling. Soon, I’ll crash.

Shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on my hips, I leave the bed, padding barefoot down the hall to her room. I run a hand down my bare chest, feeling my warm, smooth skin to ensure I’m awake. I lean against the frame of her doorway, searching for evidence she was with me.

She’s not in here, either. The piles of feather duvets I had Gian buy her are rumpled on her empty bed, proving she slept here last night. Her coming to me was nothing more than a dream. Of course, it was.

After all, what girl crawls into her monster’s bed for comfort?

I clean up her bathtub for her, tucking the toy safely away in my own bathroom. I shower and dress, preparing myself for the day ahead. I don’t spend enough time on my appearance, not as much as the day warrants.

I’m greeted at the top of the stairs with the scent of baking pastries and coffee. The thought of having either turns my stomach. I have a huge task before me, and waking up with my head in a daze over her is not the start I need.

Caffeine and sugar won’t help me.

When I reach the bottom step, I hear her voice; she’s speaking to Gian. I come around the corner and stand in the kitchen doorway, taking in the scene. She’s perched on the edge of a stool at my kitchen island, wearing comfortable clothing and looking right at home. Her long, shiny hair hangs down her back, a strand falling over her face as she leans forward, scanning her computer screen. Seeing her so at home here sends a pang through my chest, a feeling I can’t speak to.

The vision leaves my mind even more muddled.

Her and Gian’s buddy-buddy hangout makes me want to eliminate my loyal house manager. I’m infuriated by their close bond and how almost instantly it formed. However, I would never get rid of him because of her. I want her to have the best care, and I know he can provide it when I’m unavailable. And I love him dearly. He means as much to me as the brothers do. Don’t tell him that. I don’t need him asking for favors.

Which—I know he’ll be doing shortly. He’s as soft as he is hard. There’s no way he doesn’t fall for those baby blues soon enough, asking me to make concessions for her, to make things easier for her, to bend the rules for her.

Spoiling is no issue. I’m happy to buy her anything she wants or needs. However, rules are rules, and I won’t bend them for her. The only thing I’ll be bending will be her over my lap when she breaks them.

Ophelia

Over the most delicious fruit pastries and lattes I’ve ever had, Gian helps me conjugate verbs. I’m so lost in changing the word for “break” into “breaks” and “broke,” I don’t hear him come down the stairs.

Haze, appropriately named for the current look in his eyes, stands under the arched entrance to the kitchen. Dressed in a blue button-down and black trousers, he looks from me to Gian, then back to me, barely more awake than when I crawled into his bed last night.

Even Gian looks surprised at his boss’s state. “You all right? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost!” Gian eyes him, asking, “Did you not sleep well?”

“I—I don’t know.” Haze shakes his head. “I kinda woke up in a haze. Strange dreams, I guess.”

“I know just what you need. A double shot of my good Italian espresso in a latte.” Gian goes to the machine to start steaming the milk.

“None for me.” Haze shakes his head.

“Juice?” Gian offers.

“I’m good.” Raking a hand through his unruly curls, Haze clears his throat, his tone going low and gruff. “Ah, I’ve got some work to take care of. I’ll be gone a few hours.”

A few hours?

My heart sinks. I should be relieved he’ll be out of the way for a few hours. I’m perfectly comfortable with Gian. Still, I find the idea of Haze not being here for the whole day sad and disappointing. I want him here with me.

And that is a dangerous thought.

Haze locks eyes with me. He warns, “Do not leave this house.”

“Leave?” I can’t help the sassy tone in my reply. “You mean, bypass the guards, the guardhouse, the cameras, and sneak off into the woods on foot? Not to mention the tracker you’ve probably stuck up my—” The heat of humiliation rises to my hairline when I remember Gian is in the room. I want to accuse Haze of sticking a tracker up my ass with the vibrating plug; instead, I try to save my pride with a weak, “nose or something when I was sleeping.”

Dropping his gaze, Haze says, “You’ll be well taken care of here with Gian.”

“Of course she will!” Gian offers brightly. “We have much studying to do. The workload at this prestigious school is not a joke.”

“I’ll be fine. Gian is very attentive. He’s already given me more than I need.” I add, “And he’s been kind as well.”

Haze’s dark gaze finally focuses on me, his eyes cold. “Some of us haven’t been used and can afford to be kind.” The ice in his tone shocks me.

A shiver goes through me. He’s so different from the man who held me in his arms hours ago, nuzzling against my neck…

Now, breezing through the kitchen, he’s moving like he can’t escape me fast enough. He’s out of the room before I can blink. I stare down the hallway as Haze leaves us behind. I lose sight of him. A moment later, there’s a sound of a chime dinging, a signal that someone’s opened the front door.

He’s gone.