Page 45 of The Devil

“Are you negotiating sex for information?” she asks bluntly.

“Is that any worse than you using sex for distraction?”

“I tell you what. You keep your secrets and I’ll keep mine.” She begins once more to struggle against me.

I tighten my grip. “Don’t fight me, sweetheart. I’m stronger than you. Bigger than you. And I might like it too much if you fight.” I pause, taking in her eyes, how they turn a deep ocean blue when she’s aroused. “And no, I’m not negotiating sex for information. I like fucking you very much. I plan to do it again and often.”

Her eyes flash with anger. She tries to slide off my lap, but I don’t let her.

“Let me go.”

“You don’t get to walk away mid-conversation. That’s not how this works.”

“What am I, one of your poor victims to interrogate? A job? Why did you marry me anyway?” She stops, suddenly, as if she’s just thought of something. “Oh my god. It’s Cassian, isn’t it? He made you do it. He sent you here after me!”

“What?”

“Did he tell you to fuck me, too? Is this part of the job?” She shifts her position, shoves her knee against my dick. “Oh my God.”

I just manage to catch her before she can do damage. My fingers dig into her thigh hard enough to get her attention.

“You think my marrying you was a job? You think I’d allow anyone that much control over my life?”

“Wouldn’t you? You love being his enforcer. You’re thriving.”

“Thriving?” Fury rises to the surface, and I feel my grip on her hardening, hurting. “How would you know? You disappeared three months ago. And before that, you’ve barely had contact with anyone including Allegra. What are you doing here, Amal? What is this all about?”

“You think you know me, but you don’t, and this doesn’t concern you so let me go.”

“You think I don’t know you? I know you’re scared. As far as whatever you’re up to not concerning me, the moment you said the words I do, everything about you concerns me.”

“You forced me to marry you!”

“For your own good. I’m here now and you’re safe. So no, you don’t get to keep your secrets.”

“Safe? You’re hurting me.”

I follow her gaze to where I’m gripping her. She’s right. I am hurting her. And scaring her. I know it even if she won’t admit it.

I loosen my hold and the instant I do, she scoots backward and scrambles to her feet. Water splashes as she stumbles out of the bathtub. I’m on her heels and it’s lucky for her because when she slips on the wet floor, I’m there to catch her.

“Don’t touch me!” she cries out, shoving me. “Don’t fucking touch me!” When I don’t budge, she raises a hand to slap me. I capture her wrist before she does but instantly she raises the other and I grab hold of that, too, and walk her backward to the wall. I press her back to it, pinning her wrists over her head and leaning in close.

“Be careful, Little Wife. Be very fucking careful.”

Her eyes search mine, fear inside them. Fear of me. Her heart is racing, I can see it in the wildly beating pulse at her neck and when her gaze moves over the scars and ink on my body, I know she registers one word.

Danger.

She turns her face a little as if readying to be struck. Does she really think I’d hit her?

I draw back and this time, when she tries to pull away, I release her.

The instant she’s free, she grabs a towel and wraps it around herself. I stand back, pushing a hand through my hair because what the fuck just happened? How the hell did that go so utterly sideways?

Amal rushes from the bathroom and slams the door shut behind her.

I force myself to give her a minute. Only once I’ve counted to ten do I allow myself to open the door. To go after her.