8. Cold To The Bone

A prickle ran across my skin as I fell into a seat closest to the dining room door–and the furthest from the two assholes currently occupying the table.

I didn’t want to be here any more than I wanted to be in juvie, but I had hell to plot against them, and if Dad had taught me one thing–it was to dine with your enemies.

Or, as the saying goes, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Which made another thought occur to me. What if Dad hired Darius for that exact reason? To keep a close eye on him and make him do some spying at the same time?

I glanced suspiciously at Darius, wondering if he had that same mindset. Because I had no doubt that he was not here for charity or the goodness of his heart.

“What do you get out of this?” I directed the question over at Darius. I was about to reach for a glass to pour myself some orange juice when I remembered Harris’ warning and allowed my hand to fall back into my lap.

Hunter shot me an unreadable look, picking up his hand and si