“How long have you been staying in this dump?” I asked her.
She just shook her head, looking down at her plate.
I hadn’t figured she’d answer that one, either.
The food was decent. In fact, it was actually quite good, flavorful beef ravioli in a rich cream sauce, with a full basket of garlic bread that had me reaching for seconds, and then thirds.
“At least they’re feeding you well,” I told her, studying her as she ate like she was starved. “Why are you losing weight?”
She grimaced slightly, then kept eating.
I set down my fork, jaw clenched so hard it ached. “Was it because of your injury?”
Finally she looked up at me. “That was probably it. I’m eating fine now. I’ll gain the weight back in no time.”
She caught my tense expression, returning it with her own. “You’re not allowed to start treating me like a child now, just because I’m younger than you thought I was.”
That was so out of line that I went back to eating just so I wouldn’t say something I’d regret later.
“We shouldn’t fight. We only have a few more hours together,” she said quietly.
I set my fork and knife down again. “Stop saying that, and get it through your stubborn head that I’m not leaving you here.”
“You don’t have a choice. Neither of us do.”
“There are always choices,” I said, tone ominous. I’d take that f**ker out with my bare hands, if that’s what needed to be done.
“So you’re going to try to fight him, when he tells you it’s time to leave?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. She knew what I intended.
In what I assumed was exactly one hour, Heath came back to clear the table from the room.
I still had my pants on.
“Back up to the wall, hands above your head,” he told me as he came into the room.
I did it, toying with the idea of making an escape attempt right then and there. Would I get a better chance?
“Did she eat all of that herself?” he asked after he’d studied her empty plate for a long moment.
The two of them were looking at each other tensely, and as usual, I had no idea what was going on.
“She did. Why?”
His jaw clenched as he swung his icy pale eyes to glare at me. “She didn’t tell you? She’s been on a hunger strike. Care to know why?”
I nodded, feeling my stomach drop.
“She refused to eat until I let her see you again. So congratulations. You’re the reason she’s wasting away. Is that a nice stroke to your ego?”
I was ignoring him by the end, my eyes boring into her. “Iris,” I said softly, feeling so helpless. “Don’t do that again. Please.”
Her stubborn chin was set. “I won’t, okay? I just . . . couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Don’t,” Heath warned her, as though she’d said too much even with that short, cryptic statement. “Masters, go wait in the bathroom for a minute.”
I looked between the two of them.
Iris waved me on. “It’s all right, Dair. He won’t hurt me.”
“Do it, or I’ll separate you two,” he growled.
I did it, putting my ear to the door the second it was closed.
They were arguing, voices tense but too quiet for me to make out any actual words.
It didn’t last long, and as soon as they grew quiet, I heard the other door open and then shut.
I came out.
Iris was closing the top drawer of the nightstand closest to the outside door. She straightened and whirled as she heard me enter, slamming it shut tight with her knee.
I didn’t give it a second thought. It was one of those things that I’d remember later and have a sort of aha moment, but at that moment, all I cared about was being alone again with her.
“Heath told me that we have four more hours before you have to leave,” she said, sounding forlorn.
I was done arguing about it. I figured I’d do what I needed to when the time came.
And then I remembered what we’d been talking about before our strange impromptu dinner date. “Eighteen,” I sighed out, recalling it all again. “Barely f**king legal.”
This information put a damper on things, to say the least. I wasn’t sure I could ever reconcile with the notion.
Men my age with girls her age were creeps. Period.
Twenty-four had been pushing it. Eighteen was out of line.
She folded her arms across her chest, setting her jaw. “So what? I’m no different than I was before you knew that.”
She didn’t get it. But then, she was eighteen. I recalled my eighteen-year-old self and all of the things I hadn’t gotten.
She seemed to read my mind. “Oh no. You’re not going to do that. You don’t get to start treating me like a child just because your perception has changed.”
I sat down on the bed, pushing my shoulders back against the headboard. I folded my arms across my chest, wondering what the hell I was going to do with her. With myself.
She was still wearing her sweats, and I’d been in my dress shirt and slacks since I was ordered to put them back on.
She was staring at me like I was the only piece of food on the planet and she was STARVING.