Or I could retreat. Could pretend this conversation never happened. Could maintain the fiction that I was just keeping him here for strategic reasons that had nothing to do with the way my chest tightened every time I saw him.
Stefan waited. Patient. Letting me choose.
"I don't know yet," I said finally. Honestly.
"Liar." His lips curved slightly. Almost a smile. "You know exactly what you want. You're just deciding whether to take it."
He was right.
I wanted him. Wanted to possess him in every way possible. Wanted to strip away his defiance and find out what he looked like when he surrendered. Wanted to prove that the darkness in me could be something other than destructive if directed at the right person.
But wanting and taking were different things.
Taking Stefan the way I wanted to would change everything. Would cross a line I couldn't uncross. Would transform this from captivity into something else entirely. Something more complicated and dangerous than simple kidnapping.
"You should be scared of me," I said quietly.
"I am scared of you." Stefan's voice was steady despite the admission. "But I'm also bored. And frustrated. And tired of pretending there's not something happening between us."
"This is Stockholm syndrome."
"Maybe." He tilted his head. "Or maybe I saw something in you at that auction. When you were watching me. When I thought for a second that you might actually do something. Save me." His eyes held mine. "Maybe I've been wanting this since then and I'm just finally admitting it."
My hands clenched on the edge of the table.
"Stefan—"
"I'm not asking you to let me go," he said. "I'm not asking for freedom or safety or rescue. I'm just saying I see what you're doing. The staring. The chess games. The careful way you treat me like I'm something precious instead of a prisoner." He leaned forward slightly. "If you want me, take me. If you don't, stop looking at me like you do. Pick one."
The challenge hung between us.
I should say no. Should maintain my control. Should remember that Stefan was Giuseppe's son and my captive and someone I had no business touching.
Instead, I stood up and moved around the table.
Stefan's eyes widened slightly but he didn't move. Didn't retreat. Just watched me approach with that mix of fear and anticipation that made my blood burn.
I stopped in front of him. Close enough to touch. Close enough that he had to tilt his head back to meet my eyes.
"You don't know what you're asking for," I said.
"Then show me."
His voice was steady. Certain. Brave or stupid or both.
I cupped his jaw with one hand. Felt his pulse racing under my palm. Watched his pupils dilate. Saw the exact moment his breath caught.
Then I stepped back.
"Not yet," I said. "When I take you, Stefan, it won't be because you're bored or frustrated or tired of waiting. It'll be because you choose it. Because you want me as much as I want you. Because you're ready for what that means."
I left before he could respond. Before I could change my mind and give in to the want clawing at my chest.
Outside his room, I leaned against the wall and dragged in a breath.
That had been too close. Too dangerous. I'd almost crossed a line I couldn't uncross.
But Stefan's words echoed in my head.
