I drop my gaze to my naked thighs. I shake my head. I don’t know what he means, but I can’t make myself say that again. He doesn’t believe me.
Andre circles back to his earlier line of questioning. “Who did you meet in the Bronx last night and what information did you pass to them?”
My head whips up. My vision spins, making the room wild and confusing as I shout, “I waspet sitting! I didn’t meet anybody!”
Andre doesn’t reply, and my vision settles to show him regarding me steadily. He simply doesn’t believe me.
“You can check my phone!” I shout. “My old phone. I texted with the cat’s owner. I sent him pictures of the clean litterbox.”
“False trails are easy to lay.”
“It’s the truth! I didn’t meet anybody! I haven’t seen any of my family infive years. I don’t have anything to do with them! I ran away!”
“No one leaves the mafia.”
“Exactly! That’s why I changed my name! That’s why I’ve been hiding!”
“You weren’t exactly hiding when you submitted that fantasy to ForbiddenX. Did your father know of my connection to it? Was that designed to lure me? Are you a honey trap, Elio?”
“Elias.”
“But that’s just an act, isn’t it? One made just for me. I should’ve known. You were too fucking perfect for me. Every little thing about you—perfect.”
Tears well in my eyes because he’s telling me the best things and the worst things he possibly could. It’s everything I want to hear, twisted.
Andre takes my face in his hands and sweeps his thumbs across my cheeks as the tears spills. “You don’t get to cry,” he tells me.
He blurs in front of me. “Andre …”
“Why did you choose me? Is this connected to Grange?”
“You choseme.” My voice breaks on the last word.
“You made me choose you.”
I can’t see him at all, not through the blur of tears. “I could never make you do anything.”
“But you do all the time. You’ve controlled this from the beginning. I’ve been playingyourgame.”
I try to shake my head, but his hands won’t let me. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to make him believe me. I don’t understand what’s happening.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.
“Because you don’t get to win this game.”
“It’s not a game!”
“Yes, it is.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, making more tears spill. “Red!Please, Andre—red!”
He lets go roughly. I can hear his harsh breathing over my own. Then I hear his footsteps as he walks away. A heavy door opens then bangs shut.
I bow forward, sobbing, because I’ve gotten my way. He’s left me.
I’m alone.
***
