Page 25 of Property of Chux

She probably assumed I didn’t have anything here, that I just crashed in jeans and a leather cut like some savage if I’m not at home. But she is wrong in so many ways. I feel her eyes on me, tracing the tattoos stretching across my back, over my ribs, down my arms.

Let her look.

When I turn toward the small kitchen area, I finally glance at her. She’s still curled in bed, watching me cautiously, her body tense like she’s expecting me to do something—what, exactly, I don’t know.

I arch a brow as I open one of the cabinets, pulling out a pan. "Did you snoop?"

She shakes her head quickly. “Kinda too busy panicking.”

I smirk. "Good girl."

“What are you doing?” She inquires.

I smile, “making breakfast.”

There is a pause, “I’m not hungry.” The words come out barely above a whisper.

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look away. I grab some eggs, bacon, and bread, setting them on the counter before moving to light the burner. The smell of gas ignites for a secondbefore the low blue flame flickers to life. Her stomach growls again, louder this time.

I chuckle, cracking an egg into the pan. "Starving yourself ain’t gonna help, sweetheart."

She stays silent, her expression unreadable as she watches me cook. She doesn’t trust me. That’s smart. But trust doesn’t matter in this moment. What is important, sorting the threat, eliminating it, and showing her this is where she belongs.

Because right now? She’s mine to keep. I just need her to get on board with this realization.

The smell of bacon and eggs fills the small space, the sizzle of the pan the only sound between us. She’s still watching me, still unsure if she should move, if she should trust the food I’m making.

I don’t rush her.

She’ll eat when she’s ready.

Once the food is plated, I grab a fork, move to the small table, and drop into the chair. I glance at her, arching a brow as I motion to the second plate I set down across from me.

"Come eat, sweetheart," I say, voice easy, like we’re just two people having a casual breakfast together.

Her eyes narrow, suspicion rolling off her in waves, but her stomach betrays her again with another low growl. She huffs, pushing herself up slowly, still hesitant. Alert and still watching me. She moves toward the table, her steps careful, like she’s walking into a trap.

Smart girl.

She lowers herself into the chair across from me, picking up her fork but not touching the food yet. I don’t say anything, just start eating, waiting for her to give in.

It doesn’t take long.

She hesitates, then takes a small bite of eggs, testing them. When she realizes I haven’t drugged her or done anythingsinister, she eats a little more, slowly. I smirk, resting my forearms on the table as I twirl the fork between my fingers.

"Let’s get to know each other, sweetheart."

Her brows lift, surprise flickering across her face. "Excuse me?" she says, like she misheard me.

I chuckle, leaning back in my chair, watching her closely. "You heard me," I say. "Since you’re gonna be sticking around for a while, might as well have a little chat."

She stiffens, her grip on her fork tightening. She’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. “What’s a little while?” She inquires.

I can see the way her mind is racing, trying to figure out what game I’m playing.

But this isn’t a game.

This is me keeping her right where I want her.

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