He leans down, his mask ghosting over my temple. “Why are you with a man who wouldn’t burn the world to save you?”
Fire ignites in my veins, and goosebumps skitter over my arms as a visible shudder moves through me.
“I think she likes you, boss.” Harry chuckles under his breath.
“It’s an arranged marriage.” I force the words from my lips.
His grip bites into my throat as he whispers a warning in my ear. “Don’t lie to me.”
I heave out a frustrated breath. “I’m not.”
A heavy silence stretches between us, drawing out the tension, and I suspect that’s by design. This isn’t a truth-seeking mission. It’s another rigged game in his depraved little carnival of horrors.
“Are you loyal to him?” His thumb drifts to my pulse. “What price would you pay if it were Matteo sitting here instead?”
My lips part and then press shut again. Matteo has been loyal to me in the one way that I required, and he hasn’t exposed my secret. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t resent him for holding me hostage in an engagement that should have ended long ago.
Would I pay for him? Yes. But not in the way this man is asking.
“What is Matteo’s life worth to you?” His voice dips, softening at the edges. “Would you give yours to save his?”
That question ramps up my paranoia. First, they tried to provoke me with Matteo’s extracurricular activities, and now, it feels like they’re testing my loyalty to him. The thought crosses my mind that he could be behind this scheme, but I quickly rule that out. This man definitely isn’t Matteo, and it doesn’t make sense that he’d pay someone to stalk me for months.
“Tell me who’s asking.”
He abandons the pressure on my throat, only to replace it with a rough grip of my jaw. When his thumb skims across my lips, they part for him before my brain can rationalize it. Hunger and resentment war inside me as his thumb dips inside my mouth, and I taste the leather of his glove.
There’s something so uncivilized about it, I don’t know why I like it. But my body is running on instinct, not logic. And apparently, my instinct is to draw him deeper and close my lips around him.
A low, feral growl vibrates from his chest before he glances at his men. “Leave.”
They follow his order on command, and I suspect that most people probably do—if they know what’s good for them. Restless energy pulses through my body as I imagine how he might try to command me next.
There’s something about that mask, the slight tilt of his head, and the knowledge that he could toss me around like a doll if he wanted to. It’s nightmare fuel, but admittedly, he also could have crawled right out of my most depraved fantasies.
If this were a fictional scenario, I’d tell myself to do it for the plot. But it’s real life with real consequences—and if my father ever found out I let someone touch me, he’d probably kill me himself.
“Do you remember the first line of the gift I left in your office?” He releases his grip and drags his thumb from my mouth, smearing lipstick across my cheek. It leaves a stain of humiliation on my face, which I’m sure is exactly what he wants.
I squirm in the chair, trying and failing to pull a coherent thought from my brain. He’s asking about the custom shelves on my reading app—or more specifically, what I labeled them as. It isn’t just to taunt me. He has a reason, and I want to know what it is. But I can’t remember what was on that first line.
Was it masks or knives?
No, that’s not right. Maybe it was guns…or primal play. I close my eyes and mentally scroll through all the things I can remember adding there.
There was rough sex, obviously. Choking. Breeding. Cock warming. Praise. And some domination for good measure. It was basically a blueprint to every hidden desire I’ve ever entertained.
Regardless, I shouldn’t be humoring his question right now because it’s none of his business. But there’s a pulsing throb between my thighs I can’t ignore. I feel him everywhere, and he’s barely touched me.
The worst part is—he knows it.
“Answer me,” he orders.
“Last I checked, I’m not on your payroll,” I tell him. “So if you want someone to boss around, bring back Marv and Harry.”
An annoyed sigh huffs beneath the mask, like I’m the one inconveniencing him.
He reaches down to the sheath strapped against his thigh, and a sharp snap assaults my ears. When I catch a glint of the stiletto blade reflecting under the moonlight, my resistance dies a swift death.
