Holston runs a hand down his face. “Are you okay, Raven? I mean, you’re not in trouble with him, are you?”
At that, I beam. Because I’ve just realized something. “He needs my help,” I reply cryptically.
And that’s when it hits me… Matteo is the one needing my help. That should mean I get to at least choose the stage, right?
Instead of second-guessing myself, I text him.
Me: Come to my apartment tonight.
Matteo
The text comes in halfway through a meeting I stopped listening to ten minutes ago. It’s fucking boring, and no one has any updates I care about.
I don’t even know why Rafe wanted me to come when he made it abundantly clear I’m not allowed to kill or burn anyone. Boooring.
My phone buzzes against my leg, and I don’t bother hiding that I’m pulling it out while department heads drone on about margins and shipment timelines, numbers that matter but don’t interest me.
Little Thief: Come to my apartment tonight.
I don’t bother hiding my smile. Across the table, one of my men pauses mid-sentence, clearly wondering what kind of joke he missed. I ignore him and type back.
Me: Is this your way of saying you want me to fuck you again, Little Thief?
If it is, I’ll totally come whenever she wants me to. Preferably inside her tight cunt.
Her reply is almost instant, like she’s been hovering over the screen.
Little Thief: It’s me refusing to be made a fool of in my office. Come tonight, or I’ll pick the ten favors and drag both of our misery out for years to come.
I huff out a laugh, ignoring Rafe’s glare. This is exactly why I want Raven’s help. She’s so unpolished, stubborn, and with a spine that hasn’t learned when to bow.
I spend a minute deliberating my options and how I want to play this. If I agree and allow her to think she’s steering, it wouldn’t change anything. Except it would be a lie.
Choices, decisions… I flick my lighter on, watching the flame flickering.
“Matteo,” Rafe growls. “Put that out, you fucking psycho.”
I look around, forgetting we’re in one of his offices and he’s made me promise to stop playing with my lighter in here. Something about health and safety.
“Oops.” I grin, not feeling sorry at all.
Leaning back in my chair, I roll my lighter between my fingers, resisting the urge to make the flame appear again. Okay, back to Raven’s text. Letting her think we’re equal just to squash that notion later seems unnecessarily cruel.
Me: I’ll bow to your body, Little Thief. Not your mind.
Little Thief: What does that even mean?
Me: It means I’m busy tonight. But if you’re serious about not meeting at Holston’s tomorrow, you can explain to Nathan he now owes me double the favors. Do that, and I won’t come to the office.
I watch the three dots appear, disappear, then appear again. She’s spiraling. Good. She should. This isn’t a game where she gets to dictate terms.
But she also doesn’t tell me to fuck off. That’s important.
I slide the phone facedown on the table again, ignoring the restless itch to see what she sends back. Let her stew. Let her sweat.
Ahh, who am I kidding? Contradicting myself, I check the text I knew would be waiting for me.
Little Thief: Fine, I’ll meet you tomorrow morning.
