of your fucking business.” He grabbed a grain cracker, scooped up a mouthful of caramelised onion, and ate it as if daring me to ask again.
Fine.
Whatever.
I didn’t care what he got up to last night. What I did care about was what I got up to. How it happened. Who it happened with. If every instance would be the same.
We ate in silence for a bit before I poured myself a glass of freshly squeezed pineapple juice and hid my smile as Pika perched on the edge of my drink, dipping his beak in and slurping up the sugary liquid.
Sully stiffened as Pika continued to sip from my glass. His face grew stormy, as if possessive of the bird and unwilling to share him. I frowned as he whistled gently, his call acting like an immediate noose, setting Pika to flight and placing him firmly on Sully’s shoulder.
I reclined in my chair, sampling the pineapple and once again confused about who this man was. “You don’t like sharing his affection.”
He growled low in his chest. “I don’t trust others to be kind to him.”
“No one?”
His eyes flashed. “No one.”
“You have my word I’d never hurt him, Sully.”
He flinched at the use of his name. “Words don’t earn my trust, Jinx.”
“Perhaps not, but you must have some inkling of who I am as a person by now? You spend enough time harassing me.”
He bristled. “I harass you?”
“You’re here eating my food, aren’t you?”
“Your food?” His eyebrows shot into his half-dried hair. “Are you forgetting who owns this establishment?”
I placed my glass down, boldly swiping a tempeh satay off his plate. “Oh no, I could never forget that part.”
He scowled as I chewed the rich peanut delicacy. He studied me with such intensity, such curiosity, I squirmed under his stare.
“What? What is it?” I wiped my cheeks. “Do I have something on my face?”
A cold smirk twisted his lips. “Just trying to decide if you’ve changed. The first time in Euphoria normally scrambles a person. However, you still seem to have a terrible sense of self-preservation, a tongue that will only get you in trouble, and questions that won’t deliver answers you’ll like.”
I braced my spine. “Does it piss you off that I’m still fundamentally myself?”
He paused before nodding brusquely. “Actually, yes. I’m fucked off you’re still the same—even after…” He cleared his throat. “Even after being fucked within an inch of your life last night in a dimension that wasn’t real.”
“Why does that annoy you? Why aren’t you happy that I’m strong enough to withstand whatever nightmares you throw my way?”
“Because I don’t like what you make me—” He cut himself off, his hands balling on the table. “We’re off topic. You wanted to know about Euphoria.” He glanced at his naked wrist, waving it as if an expensive Rolex winked there. “Time is ticking, Jinx. I’ve overstayed my welcome as it is, and I have work to do, guests to welcome, goddesses to prepare. You get three questions about how my VR works, and that’s it.” He grabbed a handful of grapes, popping one into his mouth and chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Go ahead. Ask.”
I did my best to keep my attention away from his lips and throat as he swallowed. “Only three?”
He nodded regally.
“Fine.” Tapping my mouth with a finger, I deliberated. Doing my best to incorporate as much into one question as I could. I wouldn’t fall for his tricks. I refused to walk away from this strange, impromptu luncheon without knowing everything I could.
Information was key. And I needed all the keys I could earn to escape.
As he waited patiently, Pika fell asleep on his shoulder, his little head bobbing with tiredness.
Leaning forward, I ignored the way Sully’s gaze latched onto my cleavage as I placed my arms on the table, pushing my breasts together. His jaw flexed, his naked chest rose with a harsh breath, highlighting muscles that made my mouth water.
My stomach reacted to him, coiling itself with barbwire, pinpricking with pain.
Stop it!
My voice cracked as I asked, “You called it VR…VR as in virtual reality?”
One question wasted.
Dammit.
He steepled his fingers, elbows digging into the armrests of his chair. “Precisely.”
“And everything you put on me…the oil, lenses, earbuds, the stuff under my nose, the mouthwash, the pads on my fingertips. Is that how the illusion felt so real?”
“It was.”
“How?” I held up my hand before he could answer my final question with a generic reply, adding a caveat. “I want an in-depth