Page 39 of Vicious Little Liar
“Eat,” she encourages.
My stomach chooses that moment to grumble, and I dig in, savoring the meal as Maria goes to the stove to help the others. No one says anything to me while I eat, but neither do I get the feeling they’re talking about me. Their conversation is pitched low, and there are no furtive glances or angry stares.
Once I’ve finished my breakfast, Maria ushers me from the room, once again ordering me to follow. Since it worked out for me the first time, I see no reason not to listen. We cut back through the courtyard, making our way into the main living area I’d been in last night.
Andres is already there, and my stomach flip-flops before noticing he isn’t alone. His brother Adrian stands beside him. But there are two other men I don’t recognize as well, all carrying a hint of familiarity in their features.
Brothers, or maybe cousins?
I flick my gaze between the two I haven’t met. Younger than Andres and Adrian, for sure. Definitely related. All four men have the same dark brown hair, thick brows, and angular jaws.
But it’s their eyes that set them apart. Andres’s are a rich amber, where Adrian’s are a deep chocolate brown.
“You’re up. Have you eaten?” Andres asks, his words like honey over my skin.
No. Not honey. Get your brain out of the gutter. You do not want him!
Nodding so as not to relay my thoughts, I step further into the room.
All eyes turn toward me, and I fidget under the weight of their scrutiny.
Andres is quick to offer introductions.
“You met Adrian last night.”
With pursed lips, I nod, remembering that he’d been the one to help Andres haul me back into their SUV.
Dick.
“This is my other brother, Ángel,” he says, waving toward the young man seated on his left. He has light, almost silver-colored eyes. A sharp contrast to his dark brown hair and the rich bronze of his skin. “And this is the baby of the family, Aztlán.”
“I’m not a baby,” Aztlán retorts, shoving Andres’s shoulder before meeting my gaze with a bright smile on his face. His eyes are hazel with more flecks of green than brown. Another startling combination. Aztlán’s face is the softest of the four, some of the baby face that accompanies youth still evident in the fullness of his cheeks. I wonder which of their parents each of them takes after? Or at least which of their parents gave them all such unique eyes?
“So, you’re the girl,” Aztlán says, his grin widening.
Andres smacks him upside the head, and I choke back a laugh. Amusement sparks, and I wait to see if Aztlán will retaliate, but he surprises me by laughing off his brother’s response to his words without so much as a frown.
“Guess so,” I tell him. “Unless your brother makes it a habit of kidnapping women often?”
Adrian snorts, but jerks his attention away when I look at him. Looks like someone doesn’t have any plans to be social today.
“Am I interrupting…”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Andres and Adrian respond in unison.
The two brothers scowl at one another, and the light-hearted mood falls way to mounting tension. I think I prefer being trapped in a bedroom, after all.
“O-kay—“ I hedge. “So, if I can just borrow a phone, I’ll call for a ride and get out of your—“
“No.” Andres’s one word acts as a harsh command. “Sit.”
Swallowing hard, I sink into the chair he indicates and curl my feet beneath me. Well, that escalated quickly. I ignore the way the deep tenor of his voice makes me feel as I scrutinize all four men in the room. Each one is impeccably dressed, wearing dress slacks with long-sleeved, button-down shirts in varying shades of gray and black.
Andres has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms and the heavy gold watch on his wrist. My mouth waters. Why are his forearms so sexy? Are all men’s forearms sexy and I’ve just never noticed?
