His eyes darken. “Then I lock you down.”
The ugly little word.
Lock.
My spine goes straight. “No.”
His nostrils flare. “I’m not asking.”
“That is exactly your problem.”
“Darling.”
“No.” I step closer, because fear wants me back and I refuse to go. “I didn’t survive Rico, your engagement, Carmen’s little hospital performance, and my best friend being kidnapped so you can put me in a pretty cage.”
His eyes flash. “You think I want you caged? I want you alive.”
“I think you’re scared enough to forget the difference.”
The words hit him.
“I want you alive,” he repeats.
“I want to be alive too. Not stored.”
“This isn’t the time to fight me.”
“Then stop making me.”
He laughs once, but there is no humor in it. “You have any idea what it does to me seeing that card? Chosen women bleed prettiest. That was for you as much as Lady.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
I slap my palm against his chest. Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to stop him.
“I know exactly,” I say. “Being chosen publicly didn’t end the danger. It changed the target. You finally stopped lying for Carmen in front of everyone, and now she is punishingthe women who make that truth real. Lady. Me. Anyone close enough to prove Carmen lost.”
His face tightens.
“I’m not locking down because Carmen hates the truth,” I say. “And if you try to make me, Diablo Vargas, I will leave.”
The whole room freezes.
There is a special silence after a woman says she will leave a powerful man in front of his club. It tastes like gasoline. Every brother hears it. Every ghost in the old church hears it. Even Disco goes quiet behind the office door, which is how I know the universe is paying attention.
Diablo’s eyes go black.
For one awful second, I see the war in him. The man who wants to haul me upstairs and put his body against the door. The president who thinks losing me is unacceptable. The lover who knows if he grabs, he proves me right.
Then the front doors open.
Magic’s voice booms from the entry. “Prez.”
Every gun in the room lifts.
Diablo turns, putting himself halfway in front of me before he can stop the instinct. I move beside him, not behind him.
