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“Wait!” He stops, reluctantly turning around. A line of moonlight shines across his handsome face, and his dark brown eyes pin me in place. “What’s your name?”
“Dante.” He crosses his arms over his chest and stares at me.
A man of many words, I see.
I sigh. “Do you like to play cards?”
“I only play cards with my friends,” he says coldly. Right, and I’m not one of them.
“And I supposeJayis one of your friends?”
Dante says nothing as he regards me with cool disinterest. I sigh again. I don’t necessarily need one of these men to be my friend, but it would be nice to be treated like a person and not Ezra’s property.
The only one in this house who noticed me was Donovan. He saw my pain, saw my fear, and he helped me leave. I thought I was going to die in this house, and he got me out. I would never tell Ezra that, though, because I know he’d be after him as soon as he found out.
Another shiver runs through me at the thought that someone can have that much power, that much control, over so many people. It scares me to think about how much power and control he had overme.
“Can I go now?” Dante asks impatiently, sensing I’m deep in my thoughts.
I nod. He slams the door closed in his haste to leave.
Asshole.
* * *
I loungearound in bed for a bit longer before my stomach begins growling. I try the door, and to my surprise, it’s unlocked. My bare feet pad on the cold wooden floor as I walk to the kitchen. I want to find Ezra so I can ask him to turn the floor heaters on, or to ask him for some normal clothes, but I don’t really want to see him right now.
The kitchen, to my relief, is empty. I tiptoe to the fridge and look inside, wondering what I can make for myself that won’t disturb the whole house. I’m sure the guys haven’t eaten much all day, but I want to enjoy my solitude right now.
“Finally, you’re making something to eat,” Jay’s deep voice rumbles from behind me as he enters the kitchen. Well, so much for that solitude. “We’ve been fucking starving all day.”
He stalks towards me to peer into the fridge. I try to step out of his way, but he blocks my path. This close to him, I can see that his eyes are a rich, deep brown. His cheekbones are sharp and angular; there’s a roughness to his features that I want to smooth my fingers over.
“What are you staring at?” He cocks an eyebrow.
You.
I quickly turn around. “Nothing. What do you want to eat?”
He huffs. “I don’t know. It’s your job to figure that out.”
I roll my eyes and glare at him over my shoulder. “Please spare me the monologue of my place being in the kitchen. If I cook for you, it’s because it’s my choice, not because you and everyone else in the damn house expects me to.”
He just smirks, which infuriates me even more.
I turn to face him, looking him up and down, an action that seems to irk him. “You’re a grown man—if you wanted to eat that badly, you would have fixed yourself some food.”
His eyes light up with something like mischief. Or amusement. Or both.
I take a step back, but I only find myself pressed into the fridge shelves. I grit my teeth against the cold as he takes a step forward, getting into my space. His familiar whiskey-and-cigarettes smell wraps around me.
Jay looks me up and down, the same way I just did him. “I like you, little girl.”
I frown, ignoring the way his deep voice drags across my skin. “Don’t call me that.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Why?”
“I’m twenty-one years old. I’m not a child.”
