“I have never, norwill Iever, underestimate you, pajarito,” he says softly. Something about that tone tickles a spot in my brain that releases serotonin against my will. “And trust me, I am well aware of how thoroughly you revile me.”
Struggling not to drop my chin and shift in place, I clench my jaw and stand still. The rage he drums up in me just by existing, and doing so in his equanimous egotist way, is makingme uncomfortable. Unfortunately, though, it’s not the only sensation weaving fidgets in my limbs.
“Well, if you’re planning to kill me, I’d rather you just get it over with,” I seethe, having lost all of my patience for this cat-and-mouse nonsense.
Go figure, now that I’m seriously ready to stab him, my knife is gone.
He took it. Because I fuckinglethim.
The Ivory frowns. “Why would I ever want to kill you?”
“I dunno, maybe because I’ve been trying to killyoufor years,” I grumble. “All the while breaking into your businesses, relentlessly stalking and spying on you in pursuit of that, which means I’ve probably seen and heard things you don’t wantanyone, let alone a sworn enemy, knowing??”
He stares at me blankly for a moment. “That sounds like a perfectly acceptable excuse for why I’m keeping you here, pajarito.” He grins, folding his hands in his lap.
I hate that tone. Condescending.Pitying, even, and I don’t need his fucking pity.
I’m better off than he’ll ever be.
“Now, put some clothes on, won’t you? It’s cold in here, and I don’t want you getting sick.” He goes on,demandingthings of me, while making it seem like it’s for my benefit.
My gaze narrows. “Don’t patronize me. I want to know why I’m in here…”
“I just told you.” He rolls his eyes.
“Yea, except that it’s obvious bullshit,” I snap. “This cage has nothing to do with retribution. If you’re going to hold me here and force me to look at you on a regular basis, I think I deserve some answers.”
His lips twitch, and it annoys me to no end. “Not sure I agree with that sentiment—”
“How long do you plan on keeping me locked in this cage?” I cut off his fractious comment. “What do you want from me? Does anyone else know I’m in here? Where’s all the gunfire coming from? Is it even safe in here, or am I a sitting damn duck??”
“Dear God,” he groans, flopping onto his back. “Angelito, por favor…Enough. You’re giving me a migraine.”
I don’t know what about this has me wanting to grin. Call it the satisfaction of his dissatisfaction, I guess.
Good to know… If I can’t stab him, maybe I can annoy him to death.
“I was just wondering…”
He sits back up, pinning me with a stern glare. “No more questions, baby. Get dressed now or I’ll do it for you myself.”
Fighting hard against the shivers and warmth in my face from that fuckingword, I glance down at my semi-nakedness. “Why are you harassing me to put clothes on?”
When last night, you seemed pretty hellbent on taking them off.
“Because… you’re distracting me,” he says, firm yet quiet.
That one sentence, inthattone, increases the steady thump of my pulse to a more rapid knocking. The notion of this older, powerful, dangerous man—my parents’ killer, no less—beingdistractedsimply by my exposed skin is thrilling.
God, why is that the hottest thing ever??
Iabsolutelycould have killed him last night. That’s the most cumbersome part of all this… He’s admittedly distracted, and apparently mesmerized.
It’s not him. It’sme.
He didn’t outsmart or defeat me. With my father’s knife in my hand, el diablo said,“You should, sweet Angelito… You should definitely kill me.”
It’s all my fault that he’s still here, alive and breathing and fucking everything up. It’smyfault for getting swept up in the unexpected way he’s notat allbehaving like the sadistic fuck who killed my parents.
