Page 10 of His Lair
“No, I’m fine.”What is wrong with him? Why isn’t he leaving?“I’m planning on having an early night,” I add, hoping he gets the hint and disappears.
“Have you eaten?” He walks farther into the room instead. “I’m ordering food. What do you feel like having?”
I follow him into my tiny living room. This apartment is set up to appear like it belongs to the broke college student I’m supposed to be. “What?”
“Food.What do you feel like eating?” he asks again, tapping away on his phone as he sits on my sofa. The only sofa.
“Please, make yourself at home.” I wave a hand and then curse myself for letting the snipe slip out. I don’t think an “innocent casino worker” would speak to her boss like that. But seriously, who is this man?
“Thanks, babe. I’m thinking Chinese, but we can do pizza if you prefer?” He smiles as if this is a common occurrence. Him sitting on my sofa, ordering dinner for us.
I find myself smiling, despite thinking I have a madman in my apartment. “Ah, Chinese is good,” I tell him. “I’m just going to get dressed.” I walk into my bedroom and shut the door.
What the hell am I doing?
I rummage through my closet before pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a baggy old band t-shirt. I want to look as unattractive as possible. Once I’m dressed, I sit on the edge of my bed and send Emmanuel a text.
Me:
Is there something wrong with your friend? Like in the head? How likely is he to want to peel off my skin and wear it like a suit?
E:
Why? What’s Sammie done now?
Me:
I caught him breaking into my apartment.
E:
And he’s still alive?
Me:
I took the night off from work, and he came to check on me. He’s on my sofa ordering us food, E. This isn’t funny. What do I do?
E:
I recall you telling me we weren't friends, Lailani. Call a friend for boyfriend advice.
Argh, he is going to throw that in my face forever. Asshole.I stand by it, though. Emmanual and I are not friends. We are associates. I just don’t have any friends to ask this sort of thing.
As I’m walking out of my room, my phone vibrates in my hand.
E:
He isn’t going to hurt you, or try to wear your skin. Just eat the meal and say thanks. It’s not that hard.
With a sigh, I make my way back into the living room. Sammie lifts his head from the screen of his phone and smiles at me. And there go the butterflies again. “Food won’t be long,” he says.
“Thank you. You really did not need to come and order dinner.”
“Actually I did. I told you I’d take you on a date tonight. This is our official date, Lailani.”
“You can’t be serious. I’m wearing sweats. This isn’t a date.” I shake my head.
Chapter Five
