Page 177 of They Are Mine

I don’t have either of those yet.

I tilt my head, studying him back.

What are the chances that a criminal is housebroken?

Chapter Twenty-Five

Juliet

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” Callum asks, voice like whiskey and regret.

What the fuck.

This isn’t how this works.

This isn’t how I work.

I am always prepared. I always have notes. A plan. A strategy.

And now, I am raw-dogging this interaction like some kind of amateur.

God. How do people live like this? Just talking to people? Without research?

“Some dumb bitch got herself killed,” I say. “What are you doing here?”

God. I don’t even have a notebook. Asking questions face to face? This is just all wrong. I don’t even know how he eats yet.

I could forgive a lot, but bad table manners?

No. Absolutely not.

“Do you want to go eat?” I blurt out, because I need this fixed immediately.

Callum pauses. His mouth tilts into something that is both amused and vaguely predatory.

Like I’m the one who just did something reckless.

“That’s a hell of a transition, sweetie,” he says.

Oh, this asshole.

I plant my hands on my hips, thrown in a way I have never been thrown before.

Not by Orion.

Not by Noah.

Not by Elliot, who literally tied me up and made me beg.

But Callum?

Callum is different.

Because I don’t know him yet.

And that is a problem.

I don’t even know where he lives. What if he’s a bum?

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