Page 58 of The Hellkeeper

"Damien." My tone is accusatory.

"Amelia." He mimics the way I said his name.

I glare. He grins. But there’s an edge to his amusement.

"Where are you going?"

"Work," I huff, running my fingers through my damp hair.

His smirk vanishes. "No."

"Yes."

"You don’t need to lift a damn finger."

I cross my arms. "I like working at the restaurant. I love Margaret."

I can almost hear him counting in his head; anything for patience.

He exhales sharply, as if he’s lost the fight. "Fine. For now."

"You don’t get to decide when I quit."

His gaze snaps to mine, absolutely lethal. "I can and I will."

Before I can argue some more, he’s moving. He stands behind me and begins dragging the bristles of a brush through my damp hair. My heart stumbles. No one has ever done this for me before.

"If you think for even a second that I’ll let you sleep in that damn storage room any longer, you’re dead wrong."

I close my eyes, biting my lip. He’s impossible. Overbearing. Unhinged. But God help me, he makes me feel wanted in a way I never have before.

"We'll see."

"There will be no other option. I won’t give you one."

I roll my eyes, ignoring the way my stomach flips at his words.

"I should leave."

"Wait." He rakes his hand through my hair one last time. "I’ll drive you."

"Since when do you chauffeur me?"

"It’s a perk that comes with you being mine."

I watch him get dressed, my gaze lingering far too long on the way his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. Heat pools low in my belly.

He notices. Of course, he does. His smirk is pure sin as he zips up his pants.

The drive is silent at first, but comfortable. Until he pulls into a flower shop.

"Are you getting in touch with your romantic side?"

He scoffs, shutting off the engine.

I follow him inside, observing as this big, scary man roams the shop. He picks up a bouquet of deep red roses, handing them to me.

I take them, trying not to swoon. He grabs another bouquet filled with soft pink lilies and white tulips.

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