The Scotch Series: The Complete Series (Scotch #1-3) - Penelope Sky Page 0,27

I woke up feeling refreshed—and grateful.

I walked into the kitchen, my stomach rumbling. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. I didn’t have much of an appetite for the past three days. My stomach was tied up in tense knots.

When I rounded the corner, I saw Crewe standing there. He was in a black t-shirt with matching running shorts. A line of sweat stained the fabric of his shirt around the neck, suggesting he’d just gone for a run. He sipped his coffee and looked out the window, seeming to be lost in his thoughts.

When I slept with him, I wasn’t to admit I enjoyed it. He was a very attractive man, dark and mysterious. While my mind was repulsed by him, my body didn’t feel the same way. As stupid as it was, I held a soft spot for him. He could have done whatever he wanted to me that one night. I had every intention of killing him, and even though he knew that, he still let me go.

I didn’t think he was as evil as he claimed to be.

No other man would have stopped what they were doing. The head of his cock was already inside me. My hands were pinned to my back, and he had a tight grip on my neck. There was nothing I could have done to get out of that hold.

But he let me go.

Crewe was still my enemy, so I couldn’t go soft on him. If I ever had the opportunity to escape, I would take it. If it ever came down to him or me, I knew I would pick myself in a heartbeat.

But I was still a woman.

My plan was to soften him up, to make him want me enough that he wouldn’t hand me over to Bones. If I made myself valuable to him, he would want to keep me. I wasn’t entirely sure if my plan had worked or not. After we slept together, he didn’t seem to have any affection toward me. In fact, it seemed like he hated me even more. His decision to change the punishment may have been coincidental, having something to do with Bones or the circumstance. I would never know because he would never tell me.

He must have seen me in the reflection of the glass because he spoke. “Sleep well?”

“Like a rock.”

He sipped his coffee and continued to stare out the window. He didn’t say anything else, still quiet in his repose.

Finley emerged from the kitchen, wearing a white chef jacket that went over his collared shirt and slacks. “I was just about to make breakfast for Mr. Donoghue. Would you like anything, Lady London?”

My stomach growled in response. Thankfully, I was the only one who heard it. “Please. I’ll eat anything.”

Crewe sipped his coffee again. “I’m glad you’ve finally changed your attitude. Most people would take advantage of having a personal chef.”

Finley ignored his master’s comments. “You’ll need to be more specific, Lady London. Because I can make anything.” He gave me an affectionate smile, warm in contradiction to Crewe’s coldness. He had wrinkles around his eyes, but they somehow made him comforting. He was the only person who was remotely nice to me here.

I should take advantage of that more often. “I’ll have whatever Mr. Donoghue is having.”

Crewe turned around and finally looked at me, the front of his shirt coated in sweat. “Call me Crewe—that’s it.” He stared me down, daring me to defy him in front of his butler. “Nothing else.”

All I did was nod.

“Mr. Donohue likes egg whites with a side of grilled greens,” Finley explained. “Would you like that as well?”

I couldn’t stop myself from cringing. “Yuck, absolutely not. Who the hell eats that for breakfast?”

“A man who looks like this.” He moved his hand across his rock-hard abs, making a point.

I rolled my eyes. “Arrogance isn’t sexy.”

“I’m confident,” he corrected.

“Confidence is quiet,” I argued. “And you aren’t quiet.”

Instead of being angry, the corner of his lip rose in a smile. “You’re cute when you’re a smartass.”

Both of my eyebrows rose. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No. If I were flirting with you, you’d be bent over the kitchen table by now.” The corner of his mouth was still raised in a smile, but his eyes smoldered with intent.

My cheeks flushed since Finley was standing right there, listening to all of this.

Finley spoke as if he didn’t hear a single thing. “Then what would you like, Lady London?”

“You can just call me London.” The