Page 68 of Beautiful Things Obey
He shakes his head and casually leans his arm above my head against the doorframe, looking down at me. “What is it with you?” His gaze narrows, and I don’t know what he’s looking for, but it makes me shift uncomfortably.
“I told you I took care of it. No big deal.”
His beautiful eyes search my face. He wants to push. But he doesn’t because he has already learned that I hold everything close to my chest. He looks good tonight, but he does every night. I don’t dare ask what he was doing before he arrived here, but the fact that I have no new bodies arriving means that business must be going well or at least orderly for a night.
“You’re very calm for a woman who deals with the kind of clients who need reminding of their manners with a scalpel,” he says pointedly.
I shrug. “It’s part of the job and part of my charm. I know how to handle myself.”
The edges of his lips tilt up. I think about the time he walked into my morgue, and I pulled that very same scalpel to his throat.Ahh, such fond memories.
“My question is, why are you so good at it?” he asks, and I don’t like how closely he looks or what he might see.
“Pure talent. Now are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
“Do you realize you avoid all questions about yourself with a question?”
“Do I?”
Amusement plays on his lips.
“I’m taking you to breakfast,” he announces.
I lean against the doorframe and study him. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you think I’m free?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Then make time.”
I try not to smile at his persistence.
But fail.
I don’t know what it is about this guy that makes me smile. On paper, he is everything I should avoid. He’s the head of a powerful crime family. He could make me disappear with little effort, and experience tells me I should run in the opposite direction. Yet the way he’s looking at me right now tells me he’d find no delight in my pain—unless I ask for it, of course.
He’s not like the others.
Which is a stupid thing to think.
I know a hundred men like him, and I know firsthand to be wary of them.
Don’t fall into the same trap.I advised Tori against doing the same. But Tori and I are different, because fundamentally, I do know how to handle myself.
However, that small voice inside me, unfurling bit by bit with curiosity, makes it hard to walk away.
I mean, exactly how much trouble can I get into over eggs on toast and a cup of coffee?
“Fine,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “But you’ll pay for my time.”
An arrogant smile spreads over his lips. “That wouldn’t exactly make it a date if I’m paying you then, would it?”
“Exactly, ten thousand for my time, and you’re paying.” His eyebrows perk up. “I’m a busy woman, you know,” I say as I look at my nails and the scalpel in my hand.
