Sugar Sweet Sin

A Match

"I know. I wasn't asking you to come, I just—"

I cut myself off as Dante strides back into the room. Damn it. No time to hash out a plan.

"Thanks for checking up on me," I say sweetly into the cell. "I'll see you later. I love you."

On the other end of the call, Jack snorts a laugh. "Still working the jealousy angle, I see. I think you'll manage him just fine. I'll call you back on my next break, I just—Mike! Where are you going with that? That needed to be at Studio E two hours ago!"

I hang up, not wanting to impose on Jack any more than I already have. When I drop the cell on the nightstand, Dante is watching me, his jaw rigid.

"That was Jack," I say.

"I gathered." His eyes have darkened, and he's standing a little too still.

"He's going to come by as soon as he can."

"Mm," he replies, his mouth a hard line. He moves toward me—slowly, like a great cat stalking its prey—until he stands right over my bed. "But he's not here now."

My breath catches in my throat as he reaches out, and panic rises in my chest as his fingers brush my cheek.

"Where's the food?" I squeak.

His fingers still, but his eyes still burn bright. This close, I can see the flecks of gold in their depths, standing out against the darkness of his gaze.

"You don't have any food in your fridge or pantry," he says, the words rolling slowly off his tongue.

"I usually just eat at the bakery," I say, pulling back. "I don't cook or bake much here. But I'm really hungry."

He withdraws his hand—but not before I see a flicker of something in his eyes.

"I'll order you something, then." He pulls his cell out of his pocket.

"You don't need to do that. I can order it. You've done enough already, and I'm sure you have lots to do today."

"And who will answer the door when it arrives?"

"I've got a crutch now," I remind him. "And Jack—"

"Will get here as soon as he can, I know. And when, approximately, will that be?"

I don't have an answer ready, and he takes full advantage of my silence.

"I'll wait with you until he gets here," he says, still staring at me. "And in the meantime, I'm getting us both some lunch."

This is an argument that I know I'll never win—at least in my current condition.

"Fine," I concede, adjusting the pillow below my ankle. "But you should probably leave after that. I'd rather not have you and Jack get into a fight when he gets here."

"Why would we fight?"

I shake my head. "Don't be an idiot."

There's a spark in his eye now, but that darker emotion is still there, too, making him look all the more devilish. "This conversation isn't over, Ash. But I'm going to go ahead and put in an order. Do you have a taste for anything?"

"There's a menu for a good Chinese place on the fridge," I say, willfully ignoring the way he lingered over the word taste. "My favorite dishes are circled."

As soon as he leaves, I grab my phone again. Calling Jack again isn't an option, but I intend to try Mama Pat—she should be able to get here long before my friend, and that means I might be able to rid myself of Dante sooner rather than later. I don't trust myself alone with him—not with the looks he's been giving me.