Page 13 of Vendetta

“The pleasure of your company?”

“I’m serious,” I say, my tone losing its playfulness.

“Look.” She sits up on the bed, leaning on her elbows. “If you want me to leave, I will.” She moves to stand up.

“Stay,” I grumble, hating the fact that I’m so desperate for any contact, even that of the enemy.

She grins, knowing she has me.

“So, are they ransoming me to my father?” I ask her.

Her face instantly goes blank, her blue eyes emotionless. “I don’t know what’s going on, Leighton. They just asked me to keep you company, and here I am, okay?”

“They or he?"

“What do you mean?" she says, so obviously pretending she doesn't know what I'm asking her.

“Fine,” I huff at her evasiveness.

She raises one finely arched brow. “Don’t be like that. I even brought you my reader to borrow.”

“Really?” I ask, perking up. Instantly my mind wonders if it has Wi-Fi on it.

“Yes, really. It’s my old one, no Internet access, so you’ll have to do with what I have on it,” she says, killing my hope. She gets up and walks over to her handbag lying on the chair, pulling out a reader in a pink leather case. She comes back and hands it to me.

“You are the best,” I tell her in a sing-song voice, ignoring the pang of disappointment. I turn it on, and browse through the books on the first page.

“Kinky girl, aren’t ya?” I tease.

She laughs. “Hey, you’ve probably already read them.”

I skim the titles, not wanting to admit I have, in fact, read most of them.

“Busted,” she croons. I can’t help it. I laugh.

“Thanks,” I tell her, meaning it.

“No problem. There's a shitload of books on there, so it should keep you busy for a while.”

“Do you think you could do me one more huge favor?” I ask her hesitantly, not wanting to seem ungrateful.

“Depends on what it is,” she says, her brows furrowing.

“I’ve never gone this long without drawing or painting. If you could get me a sketch pad and some pencils, at least, I would really appreciate it,” I say to her softly.

“I’ll ask Devon,” she says, with a tilt of her head.

“Where is he these days, anyway?” I ask her curiously. Apart from that one run in two days ago, when he obviously didn't want to be caught, he's been noticeably absent.

She eyes me for a moment, tapping her cheek with her index finger. The bright red polish on her fingernail is a shocking contrast against her pale skin. “He’s a busy man.”

“Kidnapping would be a full-time job,” I mutter under my breath.

“Wanna watch a movie?” she asks, changing the subject.

“Sure,” I agree. It’s almost too easy to forget that Hayley isn’t my friend, and this isn’t a casual day hanging out. She’s here out of duty, and I’m here because I have no option.

I’m their prisoner.

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