“I’m not that hungry.” My eyes drift to the large clock mounted on the wall, and I’m surprised it’s not later.
“Don’t lie.” He dumps a few plastic containers with handwritten labels on the counter. “You barely ate any dinner.”
What little I ate came back up easily after my battle with Cesco under the table, but Fiero doesn’t need to know that. “I’m not eating a full dinner at midnight,” I say, stifling another yawn. “I’ll never sleep with a full stomach.”
“I make a mean grilled cheese.” He places his palms down on the counter. “Will you eat that?”
“Why do you care if I eat?” I tuck my hair behind my ears, placing a hand over my mouth as another yawn slips free.
“You’re under my care, and I plan to look after you well. I’m making us a snack. If you don’t like grilled cheese, I can probably scrabble something else together.”
Warmth blossoms in my chest at his words. I’m still angry he bought me, but after his earlier explanation and this, it’s getting harder to hold on to it. It’s been a long time since anyone cared whether I was hungry, or cared period, and it’s nice to know this man isn’t just some savage who brought me here to spread my legs and service him without any regard for my welfare. I’m under no illusion. He’s a dangerous made man, and in my experience, they’re mostly selfish pricks with little respect for women. I doubt Fiero is much different. This is probably an act to butter me up, but I’ll take it because I’m just that desperate for affection.
I’m walking a slippery slope, and I’ve got to be careful around this man. Appeasing him is the smartest option if I can pull it off. I offer him a genuine smile. “Grilled cheese is good. Thank you.”
He stares at me as if in a daze for a few seconds before shaking out of it. “Coming right up.”
He returns the containers to the refrigerator, before gathering the ingredients he needs to make our grilled cheese. We don’t talk as he sets about making our sandwiches, putting them on the griddle, and then cutting them in half and sliding them onto plates. “What would you like to drink?” he asks, setting a plate in front of me. “I’ve got water, juice, coffee, and a variety of herbal teas.”
“Do you have peppermint?” I ask, and he nods. “I’ll have that, thanks.”
I inhale the gooey, cheesy goodness as Fiero puts the kettle on, moaning as I sink my teeth into the first bite.
Fiero’s shoulders stiffen as he stands with his back to me. A few beats later, he casts a glance over his shoulder. His expression is carefully controlled. “Good?”
“Very,” I mumble in between bites. A satisfied smile crawls over his delectable mouth, and his entire face comes alive. He’s so gorgeous I almost choke on the piece of sandwich in my mouth. He is incredibly sexy with that cheeky boyish grin, the mischievous glint in his big blue eyes, mop of white-blond hair falling over his brow, and the layer of dark stubble coating his jawline. My fingers twitch with a need to explore, and I wonder how I’ll survive a week in this house with him and not succumb to his charms. I have a feeling when he fucks me I’ll never be the same again, and the thought is troubling in the extreme.
I never thought I’d ever be attracted to an older man, but I barely even register that fact when I’m with him. He turns my insides to mush with one heated look, and his touch is like lightning, supercharging every inch of my body and amplifying desires that have long lain dormant.
I am so screwed.
I could fight it, refuse to let him touch me, and see if he’s a man of his word, but pacifying him is a smarter move. If I keep him happy and distract him with sex, I can snoop and plot my escape. I’ll try to zone out, like I always do during sex, but I have a feeling that’ll be impossible with Fiero. I’m terrified with one touch I’ll be putty in his hands. I’ll have to find some way to detach myself from the act. To view it purely as a physical release and not read more into it. After all, he only wants me to sate his lust, and he fully plans on giving me back.
He has no idea I’m never returning to Miami.
And I can’t contemplate the consequences for him if I escape while I’m under his care.
Fiero is a big boy, and he outranks Dom; he’ll figure a way out.
11
FIERO
“Sleep in this,” I say, walking out of my closet holding a white T-shirt. I’m not letting her sleep in that tatty shit that is supposed to pass for a nightdress I found in her case. I thrust the shirt at her, and she throws it on the floor like it offends her.
“Did you go through my things?” she shouts, looking instantly panicked. Her case is open on my bed as she glares at me.
“I didn’t pry,” I lie. “I just opened it to grab clean clothes.”
“You undressed and redressed me.” She turns to me in her bare feet, crossing her arms over her chest. One hand reaches up to curl around her locket. “That is a massive violation of my privacy.”
“We already discussed this, and I didn’t look,” I lie again.
I mean, I set out with that intention, but I couldn’t help looking, and fuck me, I have never seen a woman more beautiful. It took everything in me to leave her sleeping on her back while I dressed her and not part her thighs and feast on her tempting flesh. When I take her for the first time, she’ll be fully conscious and aware of everything I do to her, every pleasure I tease from her silky, smooth flesh. I want her panting and screaming and writhing underneath me. Nothing less will be acceptable.
Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”
“What’s it matter? I’ll be seeing everything very soon.”
