14. Riordan's POV

Riordan

I smile when I’m nervous. I’m never nervous. She makes me nervous.

She pokes into the eggs with a fork, not quite eating and pushing it around her plate. Her blue gaze is trained on me with distrust and I see her trying to figure out what the fuck I’m doing in her apartment. It isn’t hard to read her thoughts when she wears them on her face.

“You should eat,” I say, breaking the silence. “You’re leaner.”

The fork clangs loudly as she drops it in the plate and folds her arms, pushing up those damn breasts my fingers long to fondle. “What do you want?”

Begrudgingly, I raise my gaze from her hard nipples peeking through the wet, black dress. “We both know the answer to that question.” Her full mouth parts and I raise a single finger, stopping her from coming to one of those conclusions that might earn me a bullet to the head—if the rumors about how many of my people she has killed in the last three day since she has returned is true. “But, I’m here for an entirely different reaso