Page 33 of Iris' Lying Eyes
He eyes me for a minute, and I maintain my gaze until he sighs. “Just watch your back. Everything is about the bottom line. Everything.”
I hardly need the warning. I’ve been surrounded by evil since I grew boobs, which is, unfortunately, disgustingly synonymous.
“And you?” I ask, fatigue catching at my bones. The constant barrage of subterfuge is really fucking old.
“Me?” He shrugs. “I don’t care one way or the other. Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”
“Noted.”
Nodding, he stands, but as he’s walking away, I say, “If you don’t care, why the warning?”
He pauses and says quietly, “Because you’re better off an ally than an enemy.”
After he’s gone, I watch the sun descend on the horizon. The beautiful orange ball of light hurts my eyes, but I don’t look away. Before too long, I may never get the opportunity again. So, I soak it in before heading out with a sigh.
∞∞∞
“Iris!”
Flipping open one eye, I stare at the door from where I’m lying across the mattress and pretending to sleep. The lumpy monstrosity should’ve been tossed twenty years ago.
I’m surrounded by vintage furniture that probably couldn’t be given away at a garage sale and a cheap-ass television set. Still, it fits my budget, so I can hardly complain—much.
The door practically rattles on its hinges as Bastion’s meaty fist slams against the flimsy wood.
How did he find me?Whydid he find me?
“Open the fucking door before I open it for you,” he growls.
“Calm down,” I grumble, stalking over and undoing the latches.
When I open the door, Bastion stares down at me with blazing eyes before his gaze falls to my tits, and he pushes me inside, slamming it behind him.
Without a change of clothes, I dropped down to my panties to sleep. Ignoring his acidic glare, I flop back on the bed and snuggle against the pillow, hiding my smile when he huffs.
I peek at him through my lashes, noting with a shiver his eyes pasted to my ass. He may act like he doesn’t want me, but his heated eyes tell a different story.
His nostrils flare as he looks away, saying gruffly, “What are you doing here?”
“Sleeping?” I say sassily. It’s my only defense because I’m two seconds away from flying off the bed and climbing him like a tree. Besides, riling him has become a favorite pastime.
His eyes fly to mine and narrow. “We made a deal, but I guess I should’ve known better.”
Oh, ho. Someone’s pissy.
Sitting up, I hug the pillow to me and say, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t fucking care about anybody but yourself.”
Huffing, I look away and rasp, “Who else is going to care?”
There’s a pregnant pause before Bastion grabs the dress hanging over the back of the chair and throws it at me. “Get dressed.”
I catch it before it smacks me in the face and ball it in my fist. “No.”
“No?” He barks.
“You said it yourself. I don’t care. Leave me be.”