"I don't get the nervous vibe from you," he said.
"It's not like you can read my mind or anything."
"Can you read mine?"
She laughed then realized he wasn't joking. Glancing up, her movements stilled. He was waiting for an answer. She swallowed her laughter.
"First you're a vampire. Now you think I can read minds," she said, shaking her head.
At his silence, she sighed.
"I'm sorry. Again. I'll keep quiet."
He strode down the other hallway. She imagined him snarling over the book she pushed in and replacing the one she'd been reading. The wicked side of her wanted to push in a few books next time he left, just to irk him. Like her cousins, who took everything so seriously, something about Xander provoked her inner bully.
When he returned, he went to the iPad on the dining table and turned it on. She watched him curiously, wondering if he planned on wiping off her offending fingerprints. He finished whatever it was he did and set it back down.
"I'm going out. Be in at eight," he ordered.
"I was thinking of getting here at seven fifty seven. Is that okay?"
"Don't fuck with me."
Angry was a good description, she noted. He turned away towards the stairs leading down to the main floor, and she sneaked a glance to see if he still wore the necklace.
He did.
Her first day was awful. She failed her task and managed to piss off the new boss, all because she got nervous seeing a half-naked man. How was she supposed to get the necklace, if he wore it all the time?
The sounds of his footsteps coming back up the stairs made her cringe. Had he decided to fire her?
"What would you change about the interior décor?" he questioned.
Startled by his interest, she looked towards the stairs. He stood at the top, arms crossed.
"I know you don't care what I think," she replied after a pause.
"No, but I want to know why you think it."
"Why does it matter?"
"Because I can't read your mind." The words were spoken with effort through his clenched teeth, as if the admittance was a personal insult.
I am so leaving that one alone. "I don't know what I would change," she replied, studying him. "Your condo is so cold and standoffish. It doesn't fit you."
He was listening with unusual attentiveness. It made her want to laugh and squirm uncomfortably. This wasn't normal.
"You're nervous right now?" he asked when she didn't continue.
"Freaked out is probably more accurate."
"Why?"
She gave a sigh of exasperation. "Maybe because some complete stranger built like Conan is interrogating me about his décor."