Page 65 of Vicious Games

It’s only when we step into the elevator that Frankie finally speaks. “I missed dinner last night,” she says, her voice quiet. “Woke up starving. Sister Margaretta saw me wolf breakfast down and thought I was binge eating.”

I frown. “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

“Because then I’d have to explain why I missed dinner in the first place.”

I lower my gaze to her face, watching her carefully. “And why did you miss dinner?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

My forehead creases for a second before the realization hits. “It was because of me, wasn’t it?” My smirk creeps in. “Because of our kiss?”

Frankie stiffens. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

That’s a yes.

She stayed up last night thinking about me. Couldn’t even muster to eat.

I fucking knew it.

“God, you’re vain,” she mutters when she sees my cocky grin plastered all over my face.

I shrug. “Been called worse.”

The elevator dings, and before I can needle her more, she rushes ahead toward Jude’s apartment.

I let her escape… for now.

When we step inside, I toss the keys onto the counter and turn to her.

“Settle in and try to knock out some of the exercises. I’ll be right back.”

Her eyes widen in disbelief. “You’re just going to leave me here? Alone in your brother’s apartment?”

“Yeah. It’ll only be for, like, half an hour. Just enough time for you to get some homework done. You good with that?”

“Do I have another choice?” she snaps.

My lips curve into a lazy grin, handing her the bag with her books. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“You wish.”

I laugh at her sass before walking out the door.

I hurry with my errand because, knowing Frankie, she’s probably sitting there freaking out at the idea of being left alone in someone else’s home.

Less than half an hour later, I’m back, kicking the door closed behind me with two heavy paper bags in my grip.

“Little help here?”

Frankie looks up from her notebook, eyeing the bags suspiciously before getting up from the floor and taking one from my hands. “What is this?”

“Groceries.” I set the bags on the counter. “If you’re going to be skipping meals, then I’m going to make sure you eat before you leave.”

Her brows furrow. “I don’t intend on skipping meals anymore.”

“Oh, trust me. You will.” I wink.

If I have my way, Frankie will be skipping every dinner back at the orphanage for the foreseeable future.

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