Page 25 of Bite Me

“I don’t need days off,” I grumble.

“You’re just pissed because your executioner is coming today.”

I need to check the whole culinary club kitchen to make sure it’s spotless. He’s always fucking early.

Emma’s presence stops the insult on my tongue.

The only thing that can make this day worse is her blinding scent in my nose as she comes from the lounge and into the kitchen.

That smile could convince any man to hang the moon, and it falls as soon as she spots me. Verity is giving her a tour. Emma takes it all in with her lips firmly pressed together and her eyes filled with energy. They walk past the stainless steel stations where Luther has already got everyone working on something for today.

Despite her obvious excitement, she can’t stop herself from continually giving me pointed glares from across the room.

How am I supposed to focus with Emma walking around, touching everything? I pretend to do my kitchen inspection as far away from her as possible. It’s hard to mind my own business because everything about Emma is loud. The way she dresses, the way she talks, her fucking scent. I take a rag and some bleach and start wiping the counters. You’d think the smell of food would drown it out, but no.

Focus, for fuck’s sake. I can’t have her presence throw me off every time we’re in the same room. If my grandfather finds even a speck of dirt in this place, I’m going to get it.

“Dacre. You’ve met Emma Osborne.” Verity sends a shit-eating grin my way. She’s a viper of a woman who feeds on the suffering of anyone she considers beneath her. Nice for her. Annoying for me.

Verity’s gaze shoots to my cleaning rag, and her brow lifts.

“The cleaning not to your liking?”

“No. It’s not. It’s shit.” I wipe my hands and stand straight, doing my best attempt to be civil. “Good afternoon, Emma.”

Emma’s jaw flexes. “Yes, afternoon. Thank you again for graciously backing my nomination. I came over as soon as everything was finalized for my tour.”

Of course, she did. She couldn’t stay away for even one day.

Verity raises an eyebrow curiously, then sighs.

“Dacre, I really need to start working on my lesson plans. Will you make sure she gets a good look at the ingredient cabinet and anything else you want her to see?”

Verity is technically my subordinate, but she never does any of the shit I tell her to do. I’m about to say, “fuck no,” when I remember the last time I tried to fight her on something and how it ruined my entire day because she wouldn’t stop arguing. She can talk her way out of anything, and this back-and-forth is only going to make this longer than it needs to.

“I think I can manage.”

Emma crosses her arms as Verity disappears to her station. “Well, I guess it was nice while it lasted.”

“My only request is that you keep your hands to yourself. I don’t need my stuff going missing.”

She scoffs. “It was one time! Why won’t you let it go?”

“Why won’t you just own up to it and stop making excuses?”

Is her stealing a notebook from the culinary lounge a deplorable offense? No. But it gets under her skin. So I push.

“I’m not.”

“Yeah? Keep telling yourself that, thief.”

“Fine. I did it on a dare. Yes, I stole it, and no, I don’t regret it.”

I lean against the countertop so I can stare directly into her eyes. “See, now we’re finally getting somewhere. Doesn’t it feel good to be honest instead of pretending? You were invited to the lounge as a gift, a favor from a friend, and then spat in the face of that generosity.”

Her mouth falls open. “I already apologized to Zant for that.”

It’s working. Her pulse is rising.