I lick my lips. “Tell me what you were doing at the auction.”
"The first thing you need to understand about my world is that it's not all black and white.”
"You're speaking in riddles again."
His arm flexes over my belly. "Patience, little bird."
I glance down at his hand. It's resting underneath my belly button. I still hear my mother's voice, telling me how the softness of my waist is repulsive.
But judging by the way Dante's body seems to react to mine, he doesn't find me repulsive. Not one bit.
He's made that abundantly clear.
He opens a folder on his computer. The contents of it are displayed on all four computers before me.
I'm staring at sketches of men's faces. There are a little more than a dozen of them, and all of them seem vaguely familiar.
"They're from the auction," I whisper.
"They were sitting in the audience," he tells me. "These heartless monsters are the reason those kinds of auctions exist in the first place. So I go where they go. I learn their faces and their habits. And eventually, I learn their identities."
"You...hunt them."
"It's easy to eliminate these motherfuckers," I say. "But it's important to play the long game to avoid suspicion."
I digest the information.
If what he’s saying is true, he’s not one of them. He’s a vigilante who does the wrong things for the right reasons.
"That…sounds very noble, Dante," I say, turning around to look at him.
His scent goes straight to my head. Smoky oud, sea salt, and hydrangeas. He smells like the kind of stuff I used to only dream about. Like faraway lands and freedom.
"Why do you care?"
"Do I need a reason?"
"Ordinary people would condemn these practices, but I don't know anyone who would go out of their way to change things. You're putting your life in danger by doing what you do,” I say. "Why?"
He lifts his hand to my face, cupping my jaw in his large hand. He brushes his thumb over my bottom lip.
"You're asking me to share things I keep locked away in my head,piccola," he says.
"This is why men don't live as long as women," I say. "It's not healthy to keep things suppressed inside you."
"So you want to be my little confidante?" he asks, tugging on my bottom lip and making my lips part. The throb between my thighs intensifies.
"We can be friends," I say.
"Friends," he repeats. "I think it's too late for us to just be friends."
He cups one of my breasts in his palm and gives it a rough squeeze. I shift over his hard cock.
"Friends with benefits then," I say.
He pinches my nipple, making me moan.
"Do you have any more questions for me before I take my kiss?" he says.
