Page 33 of When He Lies
“Please. I could do that on my own.”
“Then why go out with me three times?” Why was he asking? Why did he want to know so badly? “Why did you go out with me if you weren’t using me?”
“Is it so crazy to think I might have liked you?”
Liked the billionaire he pretended to be, check. She did not know the real him. At all. Ryan put more distance between them. “I need you to stay out of sight.”
“I’m sure I can somehow manage that feat.” She made a show of straightening the long, loose, and muddy folds of her dress. “So much for taking this back without anyone noticing it was gone.”
Wait…had she stolen the dress, too?
“This is going to cost me a fortune.”
So now she was going to pay for her stolen dress? “You confuse me.”
“I get that a lot.” She plucked at the dress. “It was such a pretty gown. And it had pockets. Do you know how amazing it is when a gown like this has pockets?” Her shoulders slumped. “I freaking love pockets.”
“I’ll make a mental note of that.” Then, gruff, “I’ll get the damn dress professionally cleaned for you. It will be fine.” Time was up. He’d spotted a door to the right. He yanked it open and found a cobweb-filled closet space. “Get in here.”
She crept closer and poked her head into the dark space. Then her head swung back toward him. “You are not serious.”
Sadly, he was. His hands wrapped around her waist. He lifted her up and put her inside.
But her hands flew out to curve around the doorframe. “No! Dammit, it’s dark in there!”
“Light will spill in under the bottom of the door.” Maybe. The only light in the cottage had come from the sunlight that trickled in through the boarded-up windows. There were very high odds that she’d be in total darkness inside the closet. “It will only be for a few moments.”
“There are spiders and creepers and who knows what else in there!” She kept clinging to the doorframe.
What in the hell was a creeper? Never mind. He shook off the question. “You weren’t afraid of a Russian mercenary who wanted to slice off your fingers, but you’re afraid of spiders?”
Her chin notched up. “I was terrified of Alexei. I just don’t typically like to let people see my fear.”
“Seems like I’m seeing it right now.”
Instantly, she released the doorframe. She sniffed even as her chin notched up. With a glare, Simone snapped, “Fine. Lock me in the dark closet.”
Now he felt like an extra bastard, but that rumbling engine was right outside of the cottage. “I’m not locking you in,” he rasped. “I’m protecting you.”
“You’re kissing me, then shoving me in a spider-filled closet. Doesn’t feel like protecting me.” She crept back a bit. “Shut the door. Do it. Go ahead.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Guilt ate at him. “I will be right here. Guarding you.”
“With what?”
He blinked.
“Do you happen to have a weapon hidden on you? Because I’m pretty sure you left the knife in Alexei.”
He had.
Her arms crossed over her chest. “Try not to die while I’m hiding in the closet, will you? Because if I get stuck in here, I will be pissed.”
“I’m not going to die.” A disgruntled mutter. “And you are not going to get stuck.” He shut the door. Slowly.
It clicked.
He was not going to die. He could handle the enemy even without a weapon. Had she meant to insult him? He had just pushed her into a cobweb-filled closet right after they’d made out. And, yes, he should have probably not kissed her. Not then. But he had. There was no going back from that particular choice.
