Catwoman: Soulstealer - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,60

people of this country since coming home.

She certainly couldn’t say that about herself.

Selina knocked on his door at seven, her heartbeat a little more elevated than she’d like. Especially when he opened the door, wearing a tight navy T-shirt and jeans.

Luke gave her a smile as he beckoned her in, his expression warmer than any she’d seen before. She’d opted for expensive yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt and workout jacket. Casual, but the quality nice enough.

“Any preferences for pizza?” Luke asked as he strode for his phone on the glass dining table.

His apartment was nicer than hers. Warmer.

She scanned the exits and windows. It was the same open concept as her own place: one massive room that contained a kitchen, living room, and dining area—all contained within floor-to-ceiling glass windows that opened onto a wraparound balcony. To her right, past the dining area, was a long hallway, the mirror to her own, that no doubt contained the powder room, master bedroom, and two other guest rooms, each with its own bathroom. The walls were painted varying shades of gray, his leather and chrome furniture offset with thick, warm rugs and gently curving lamps. A gas fireplace flickered beneath the enormous flat-screen TV, currently playing the intro to Jeopardy!

If the plans were mirrored, then the safe would be in his closet, anchored into the wall.

Not that she was planning on stealing anything else from him.

“Nice place,” she said, following him to the open kitchen, bedecked in Carrara marble and black cabinets. “And—um…” The last time she’d had pizza…She couldn’t remember. It certainly wasn’t the kind they made in Gotham City. No, it had been the thin-crust, simple pizza in Italy, so good that you could cry. Before that, her favorite had been a dollar-slice shop in the East End—the memory of it still enough to make her mouth water. Not that she could tell him that. “Plain is fine.”

“Mind if I get half with sausage and pepperoni?”

She watched him dial the number. “Only if you get the whole thing with that instead.”

Luke cut her a wry, amused look and then ordered. “Twenty minutes,” he declared.

She nodded, sliding her hands into her jacket pockets.

“You didn’t bring a drink.”

“I’m not a big drinker,” she admitted. She wasn’t, not as Selina or Holly. She’d seen what it did to her mother. And though she sipped champagne at the galas and mimosas at the brunches…never too much. Never enough to make her out of control.

“Fair enough,” Luke said. “Neither am I.” Another mark in his favor, she had to admit. He opened his enormous fridge, surveying its contents. “Soda? Juice? Water?”

“Water is fine.” She took a seat at the marble island, watching the TV across the room.

Trebek asked, “After England, more Shakespeare plays are set in this present-day country than any other.”

“What is Italy?” Selina answered as Luke set the glass of water in front of her.

The contestant provided the same answer. Luke raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

Another question. “The last Grand Master of the Knights Templar.”

Luke and Selina said together, “Who is Jacques de Molay?”

She smiled at him, the expression not feigned at all.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Jeopardy! fan.”

“Being well dressed means you can’t know some things?”

Before he could reply, Trebek asked another question. “It’s the largest country in the world without any permanent natural rivers or lakes.”

Selina answered just as Luke did: “What is Saudi Arabia?”

Correct.

Luke smiled slyly. “Loser pays for dinner,” he offered, light dancing in those dark eyes.

Different, she realized. He was so different from the arrogant rich boy she’d assumed he was. No bravado, no need to flaunt that he was a true hero. He was gentle—kind. She’d known few men like him, she realized.

So Selina, despite herself, clinked her water glass against his. “You have no idea what you’ve just started,” she purred.

* * *

They tied. Answering a few questions even the contestants didn’t know. It was no surprise to Luke, since that occurred nearly every time he watched the show, but Holly’s own mastery of the trivia had been a delightful surprise. She’d answered all the questions correctly. By the time the pizza arrived, he was assessing her again.

Had he assumed too much about her? But she’d done a damn good job of seeming like a bored, soulless heiress. But the person he’d seen in his office earlier…It had been a glimpse. Into this.

There was no sign of those refined manners, either, as she devoured three pieces of pizza, downing them

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