Page 65 of Glutton for Punishment

Arwen

After sleeping like the dead, I force myself out of bed. I open the door to my room and nearly trip over the remains of a makeshift bed.

A pillow and a blanket twisted together on the carpeted floor. It’s been like this for four nights. Four nights of him sleeping out here like a guard dog. I haven’t left the room much and never without Maddox.

I’ve used the time to sleep and heal. Greed feels a million miles away, but I can’t help thinking I’ve switched one cage for another with the way he keeps me holed up in here.

Since he’s not out here, I step back into my room before I hear my name being called down the hallway.

Maddox is already halfway down the hall, moving like he always does. Urgent and intense. His shoulders are tight, jaw set, eyes locked on me. He’s wearing one of those distracting, tight shirts again.

A familiar face from dinner follows him. Her hair is cut into a precise dark bob, not a strand out of place.

Maybe a couple of decades older than Maddox, but there’s no mistaking their relation when you compare their eyes.

Valentine.

Composed in a pantsuit that says power.

Not a dress or a skirt. I like this lady a lot. I can already tell.

“She should have trained me for dinner,” I say to Maddox as he rolls his eyes.

Thankfully, I have seen none of the siblings since dinner.

“You weren’t leaving, were you?” Maddox asks, in what I’ve deemed his growly voice.

I lean against the doorframe, folding my arms. “No. Of course not. Just checking if my stalker was still here.” I gesture towards the bedding sprawled across the floor.

He reaches for my hand, and his grip is warm and grounding, a quiet check-in.

“Valentine needs to talk with us,” he says, softer now. “Is it okay if she comes in?”

“Of course.” I step back, opening the door wider.

Valentine moves past him without hesitation. Up close, her features are sharper. The pantsuit looks like it costs more than our entire hut back home, furniture and all.

I glance down at my sleep shorts and rumpled tee. Bare feet.

Did I even brush my hair?

I resist the urge to squeal like a pig, run into the bathroom and pretend this never happened.

She looks at me anyway with a pleasant enough smile and offers her hand.

“Arwen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Her grip is firm and measured.

“We didn’t get to speak much at dinner,” she continues, “given the… seating arrangements.” There’s the faintest flicker of annoyance in her expression. “But I’m with how you held your own. My family is tough enough to manage individually. Altogether, they’re… an impossible beast.”

I blink at her. Was that a compliment? For me?

“Th—thank you?” It comes out more question than a statement.

Maddox releases my hand only to move closer, positioning himself just off my shoulder.

Valentine’s gaze flicks between us, taking that in, filing it away somewhere I can’t see.