Read Online Monster (Impossible #1) by Julia Sykes - Free Book Online
Authors: Julia Sykes
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verbal volleys ‘great conversation.’”
Sean gave a low, rumbling chuckle. “You are a regular little spitfire, aren’t you? Well, I don’t mind. Keeps things interesting.” His expression suddenly turned deadly serious. “Enough about the weather. I have a very important question for you. Consider carefully, as your response will determine whether you’re cool or not. Claudia,” he said my name solemnly. “What is your favorite TV show?”
I flushed. Great. Seemed like I was about to be deemed “uncool.” And that idea bothered me more than it should.
“ Ummm… I don’t really watch TV,” I admitted after a moment.
Sean’s eyes went wide, astounded. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “How about your favorite book?”
My cheeks only flamed hotter. “I don’t really read for pleasure either.”
He was looking at me as though I were an alien.
I made an exasperated noise, feeling defensive. “Maybe Grey’s Anatomy, then.”
He looked even more thunderstruck. “That’s not exactly a ‘fun’ book,” he said. “What are you, a robot?”
“I’m a doctor,” I snapped. “I don’t exactly have time for things like TV and books that don’t pertain to my work. Funnily enough, I value being good at what I do over allowing insipid dramas to take up space in my brain.”
His expression shifted, considering me. “Definitely not a robot,” he nodded after a moment. “You’re far too easy to get a rise out of for that. But not entirely human either. Do you have any life outside of your job?”
Okay, that hit a nerve. Some part of me knew that he was joking, that he didn’t mean anything by it, but it was too close to the truth. A truth that had been made painfully clear to me since my abduction: no one cared that I was missing.
“I was right,” I said with venom. “Turns out you are a shit conversationalist.” I folded my arms across my chest and turned my back on him, unwilling to let him see the hurt in my eyes.
“Claudia,” he said my name gently. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“You never do seem to say what you mean,” I snapped. “We’re done talking.”
I knew that this was a dangerous move; it went against my plan to ingratiate myself with Sean. But I would just have to behave myself to earn his trust. Being compliant didn’t mean that I had to pretend to be his friend.
I seethed in silence, the time passing interminably slowly as that tension grew between us again. But this time there was an uncomfortable edge to it, like the unpleasant tang of sulfur burning. Whatever there had been between us earlier was tainted now. And it was almost easier this way; it was certainly far less disconcerting.
As much as I didn’t ever want to see Bradley’s face again, it was almost a relief when he unlocked the bedroom door.
“Here,” he said, not even looking at me as he tossed a bag of clothes in my general direction. I peeked inside: some dresses from a charity shop and a pack of underwear that looked like they actually had come from the dollar store. I wasn’t sure if he was just being an ass or if he really did have a “sense of style equivalent to a blind old schoolteacher ’s who shops at the Family Dollar.”
What got my hackles up more than anything was the complete absence of slacks or jeans. I never wore dresses; they feminized me too much, would make people take me less seriously at work. But I wasn’t at work, might never go again. Was I doomed to a future of being cast in the role of “fragile woman”? Okay, I might not be the strongest person physically, but I had worked hard to build an image as a tough-minded, competent modern woman. Even so, I pursed my lips, worried that Bradley would take the clothes away if I complained. But I wasn’t about to say “thank you.” So I settled for a glare.
“Can I have that shower now?” I asked Bradley
Sean gave a low, rumbling chuckle. “You are a regular little spitfire, aren’t you? Well, I don’t mind. Keeps things interesting.” His expression suddenly turned deadly serious. “Enough about the weather. I have a very important question for you. Consider carefully, as your response will determine whether you’re cool or not. Claudia,” he said my name solemnly. “What is your favorite TV show?”
I flushed. Great. Seemed like I was about to be deemed “uncool.” And that idea bothered me more than it should.
“ Ummm… I don’t really watch TV,” I admitted after a moment.
Sean’s eyes went wide, astounded. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “How about your favorite book?”
My cheeks only flamed hotter. “I don’t really read for pleasure either.”
He was looking at me as though I were an alien.
I made an exasperated noise, feeling defensive. “Maybe Grey’s Anatomy, then.”
He looked even more thunderstruck. “That’s not exactly a ‘fun’ book,” he said. “What are you, a robot?”
“I’m a doctor,” I snapped. “I don’t exactly have time for things like TV and books that don’t pertain to my work. Funnily enough, I value being good at what I do over allowing insipid dramas to take up space in my brain.”
His expression shifted, considering me. “Definitely not a robot,” he nodded after a moment. “You’re far too easy to get a rise out of for that. But not entirely human either. Do you have any life outside of your job?”
Okay, that hit a nerve. Some part of me knew that he was joking, that he didn’t mean anything by it, but it was too close to the truth. A truth that had been made painfully clear to me since my abduction: no one cared that I was missing.
“I was right,” I said with venom. “Turns out you are a shit conversationalist.” I folded my arms across my chest and turned my back on him, unwilling to let him see the hurt in my eyes.
“Claudia,” he said my name gently. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“You never do seem to say what you mean,” I snapped. “We’re done talking.”
I knew that this was a dangerous move; it went against my plan to ingratiate myself with Sean. But I would just have to behave myself to earn his trust. Being compliant didn’t mean that I had to pretend to be his friend.
I seethed in silence, the time passing interminably slowly as that tension grew between us again. But this time there was an uncomfortable edge to it, like the unpleasant tang of sulfur burning. Whatever there had been between us earlier was tainted now. And it was almost easier this way; it was certainly far less disconcerting.
As much as I didn’t ever want to see Bradley’s face again, it was almost a relief when he unlocked the bedroom door.
“Here,” he said, not even looking at me as he tossed a bag of clothes in my general direction. I peeked inside: some dresses from a charity shop and a pack of underwear that looked like they actually had come from the dollar store. I wasn’t sure if he was just being an ass or if he really did have a “sense of style equivalent to a blind old schoolteacher ’s who shops at the Family Dollar.”
What got my hackles up more than anything was the complete absence of slacks or jeans. I never wore dresses; they feminized me too much, would make people take me less seriously at work. But I wasn’t at work, might never go again. Was I doomed to a future of being cast in the role of “fragile woman”? Okay, I might not be the strongest person physically, but I had worked hard to build an image as a tough-minded, competent modern woman. Even so, I pursed my lips, worried that Bradley would take the clothes away if I complained. But I wasn’t about to say “thank you.” So I settled for a glare.
“Can I have that shower now?” I asked Bradley
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