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I pull on my socks and shoes, pocket my phone and wallet—also provided to me by the Sovranos, since I hadn’t been carrying any forms of ID on me when I’d been shot. Much as I loathe to use money provided by Michael, I don’t have a choice. It’s only a matter of time before I am involved in the day-to-day affairs of the Cosa Nostra. I’ll be pulling more than my fair share of weight in their business then. Besides, part of their wealth does belong to me by birthright. After all, I was born into it as much as they were. Besides, they owe me for everything that happened to my mother. So no, I have zero guilt in using their resources to get what I want.
I head out of my room, up the corridor, past the door to Sheena’s room, which is shut, and into Theresa’s suite at the end of the corridor.
I raise my hand to knock on the door, then change my mind. Best to use the element of surprise. I twist the doorknob, walk into the living room of the suite, and find it’s empty. I check the bathroom and the bedroom, but she’s not there. The scent of her envelops me and the blood drains to my groin. Fuck. Where the hell is she? I had explicitly told her not to leave the house without my permission. Bet that’s precisely why she decided to go out. Couldn’t stop herself from trying to defy me, eh? I twist my lips. Another challenge she’s thrown down at me, and this time, I am going to show her the consequences of going against me.
I rise to my feet and begin to pace, slowly. Does she think I am not strong enough to leave the house? Well, she hasn't reckoned with how much I have been pushing myself. I may not have one-hundred percent of my normal strength, but fuck, I am no longer a weakling either.
I pull up Seb’s number on my phone and dial.
"Yes, it’s me."
24
Theresa
"Perversions?" Elsa’s eyes round. "Did he say…per-ver-sions?"
"Shh," I glance around the crowded nightclub, but thankfully, nobody’s paying any attention to us. Yep, I had decided to tempt fate by asking Elsa to accompany me to Venom again.
"Well," she draws from the straw of her frozen margarita, "did he elaborate further?"
I shake my head.
"But he did sayperversions?"
I scowl at her, "If I didn’t know you better, I’d think that you were having too much fun with that word."
"I am." She drinks some more of the margarita. "Have you imagined what he meant by that? What all he could do to you? How rough he could get? How he could spank you, or tie you up or—"
"Stop," my cheeks heat, "and no, I haven’t imagined any of that."
"Liar." She laughs, then drains the rest of her margarita, before leaning over the bar counter, "Get me another margarita, please?"
"She’s had enough," a voice says from behind us.
Both of us turn at the same time to find Seb glowering at her. Yep, I had wanted to leave the house, knowing fully that it would piss off Axel, but that was the general idea. I was so mad at him for making me come on his fingers, for scaring me with his threats. If he thinks I’m going to back down because of the thought of some rough sex after marriage, he can think again. My thighs clench, my toes curl, and moisture beads the space between my legs. OMG, just the thought of what he could do to my body has my heartbeat ratcheting up. My pulse beats at my temples. I rub my damp palms on the skirt of my dress just as Elsa raises an eyebrow at Seb.
"You can’t tell me what to do," she drawls.
"Oh?" He smirks.
"You are not my keeper," she insists.
"But I am the person responsible for the safety of both of you." He folds his arms across his chest.
"You mean you are responsible for Theresa's safety," she corrects him.
"You are here with Theresa; ergo, I am responsible for your safety too."
The two of them glare at each other for a few seconds. The silence stretches and neither seems to want to back down.
I slide off the stool. "Thanks for bringing me here, Seb, especially as I know it means going against Axel’s orders."
Seb smirks. "It's because it goes against his orders that I couldn't resist. Also, he can’t order me around. I don’t answer to anyone."
"Not even to the Don?" Elsa asks.
He hesitates. "He’s the only exception."
