Chapter 7

He looked at me, frowning. “What?”

I looked at him, into those intense dark eyes, into their aloof detachedness, and shivered. But I said, “Well, I mean—my insurance—”

The eyes became colder, the frown deepened. He had turned on the television when I had gone upstairs. Now he turned it off and faced me menacingly. He seemed to be sizing me up, physically.

“You know,” he said casually, “I box.”

“Oh!” I said, swallowing. “No, I didn’t know.”

“Well, I do.”

I said nothing, finding it hard to look him in the eye. Instead, I looked just over his shoulder, but I could still feel his gaze on me, like a commanding touch.

“I could take that key,” he said quietly, “if I wanted to.”

I nodded. “Yes, I know that—sir.”

He hesitated and then chuckled.

“So, what’s the problem?”

I didn’t say anything, feeling unable to articulate.

“So,” he said with a snort, “you’re worried I might—steal something.”

I lowered my head and murmured, “The insurance—”