Dread blossomed in the pit of her stomach.
“Um...” She picked up a premade plate, one she’d carefully arranged for him.
He was still watching her and she didn’t like the distance in his eyes.
“My mother taught me to make this,” she continued with false bravado. “It’s a traditional dish.”
“I know.”
Gods, his tone was cold.
“You do?”
That definitely wasn’t a smile. It probably couldn’t even be classified as a smirk. A smirk at least had humour behind it.
“My mother used to make it for us.”
“She knew the recipe too?”
“Of course. Every blue-blood knows it.”
Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t have moved. His words and tone were brutal, but he hadn’t been looking at her when he’d said them and if they didn’t refer to her... His hatred of the upper-class suddenly made sense. His mother must have been one of them—
“Don’t.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “Don’t?”
“You don’t need to know about her. It’s none of your damn business.”
This wasn’t what she’d planned for the afternoon. All she could manage was to ask, “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.”
He was lying.
“You hate her.”
His fists clenched. When he saw her looking at them, he crossed his arms over his chest, hiding his hands. “I don’t care about her.”
Either this was the bravest thing she’d ever done, or the stupidest. Seeing him standing there with so much raw pain in his eyes, even though he was trying to hide it, pain put there unintentionally from her actions. It forced her hand. She took a small step toward him, holding onto the plate like it was a talisman.
“Don’t lie to me, Peirce.”
The muscle in his jaw was ticking. “I’m not talking about this.”
Another tentative step. “I don’t know what she did to you, but whatever it was, it helped you become who you are today.”
A sharp laugh. “A bastard merc who’s willing to take on any job as long as it’s good pay?” His eyes flicked to hers. “Even if it means selling someone into the sex trade?”
Life with her father had taught her when a man was out to pick a fight. She didn’t rise to the bait, didn’t let him distract her from the real issue.
“You’re brave and strong and loyal. You protected your men during the wars and still do. You find loopholes in bad contracts so you don’t have to fulfil the services. You open up your home to those in need.”
He shifted uncomfortably, eyes now focused solely on the plate that was still moving towards him. “You don’t know shit about the world.”
“You’re right,” she agreed, trying to keep her voice even. “I’m naïve and I’ll get into trouble all the time and I’ll make tons of mistakes. I’ll—”
“Leave.”