“I still want to see you.” He softens his tone. “I’m taking you to the manor this weekend like we planned.”
Guilt eats at me, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out my confession.
“I kissed someone else. I think it’s only fair you know.”
Silence stretches between us for a moment before he responds, far calmer than I expected.
“Your megalodon?”
“Yes.” I swallow. “I know I told you that you weren’t a placeholder, and I meant it?—”
“Gabi, I don’t care.”
My head snaps up as I blink at him. “You don’t?”
“No. You said you wanted to keep this casual, right?”
“Yes, but…” I pause to gather my thoughts. “You said I belonged to you, and that you don’t share.”
“My alter ego says a lot of things,” he answers wryly. “You have a tendency to bring that out in me.”
“Okay.” I frown.
I’m not certain what this feeling is. Maybe it’s disappointment, or relief, or both. It’s just strange how much things have shifted between us, when before it sounded like he despised the thought of this being inconsequential.
“I told you from the beginning, I’m not good for you,” he says softly. “That hasn’t changed. So don’t let yourself get too invested in me. Not emotionally.”
I nod, a little choked up even though it doesn’t make sense. This is exactly what we agreed on.
“Do you still want him?” he asks.
I twist my fingers together and lower my gaze. “I stopped letting myself think that was an option a long time ago.”
He processes that for a minute and nods.
Tension lingers between us, and I’m grateful when he breaks it.
“So, you still want me to fuck you senseless at the manor this weekend?”
I laugh at his crassness, even as another pang of guilt settles inside me.
I do want to go to the manor, and I hate this feeling, but this is what Romeo does to me.
He gets me all twisted up in knots until I don’t know what to think. But he shouldn’t have that kind of power over me, and one kiss doesn’t erase the last five years.
I told myself I had to move on, and what happened tonight doesn’t change that. So I make an executive decision and hold myself to it.
“I want to go.”
“Good,” Eros says. “Anything you want to take off the table?”
I realize he’s referring to all the things I said I wanted to try. There’s a long list, but I can’t think of anything that I wouldn’t want to do there.
I told him I’d want him to be rough with me, and it will be even better not knowing exactly what he might do.
“Nothing to take off the table,” I confirm.
“Alright,” he murmurs. “I’ll send your costume over tomorrow, and we’ll meet there on Friday.”
