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When we get to the large patio doors, I freeze. “Where are we going?”
Victor looks at me like I’m stupid. “Outside. Like you wanted.” He proceeds to open the door and walk through, pulling on the leash the entire time. I’m forced to follow, although I’m cursing myself for my vague wording. Except, no, Victor knows exactly what I meant, and he’s doing this to humiliate me.
Unfortunately, it works. The afternoon air hits my bare skin, and I’m suddenly keenly aware of how very public everything is. The guards posted nearby stare, but even worse is the thought of some neighbor seeing me. I glance around, and I’m only marginally reassured by the trees and the fence. But just because I can’t see the neighbors doesn’t mean they can’t see me.
But I’d asked for this, and I can’t take back my words now. Instead, I just follow him out into a garden with beautiful rose bushes, and my curiosity momentarily makes it easier for me to stand the humiliation. “Is this Angelo’s garden?”
Victor stops for a moment to look at me. “He told you about that? Hmm.” Then he continues, until we reach a fire pit with three chairs set up around it. Victor sits down in one and points to the spot between his legs. “Sit.”
I scowl at him and pointedly take the chair across from him, sitting down on the cushion.
He shrugs and pulls out his phone. “Your choice. You can either get on your knees at my feet, or you stay where you are. But I’ll use this leash to tie you to the chair, your legs spread wide, and I’ll have Santino call everybody in the house over for a show.”
I canfeelthe color drain from my face. It doesn’t even occur to me to scoff at him. I don’t for a second think he’s bluffing. It would be humiliating to kneel in front of him, but to be seen by the entire household that intimately? It’s bad enough letting them see me from a distance.
And I somehow don’t think just spreading me wide would be the whole show.
My shoulders slump, and I slowly move from the cushion down onto the hard stone patio in front of him, kneeling.
Victor doesn’t say anything. I don’t know what I expected. A condescending “good girl,” maybe? But I don’t want praise for this, especially not from him. I flinch when he puts his hand on my head, but even this isn’t a caress. He just tugs on my hair to force me to look up at him.
“Well?” Victor asks. “What’s this information you have for me?”
I swallow hard, momentarily distracted by my own thoughts. Why the fuck should I tell him anything when he’s treating me like this? But I know this is part of his game. He wants to screw with my head, and the worst part about it is that it’s working. I try to think of what he’d be interested in knowing. My father has always been the type to take phone calls at the dinner table, and I’ve heard half of too many conversations to count. I know a lot, but where to start?
“I can tell you where his primary warehouse is,” I offer, assuming that’s a juicy piece of information.
“The one in Westlake?” Victor huffs a small laugh. “I’ve known about it for over a year now.”
Well, fuck. I’d thought that would be big enough to earn me a small reprieve. Though really, what is he going to do if I don’t have any information big enough to benefit him? Take me back inside?
And leave me there.
“I know the routes from there to the docks,” I say. “There are three, but they always use one of the same ones. They just vary them by the day.”
Victor’s grip on my hair tightens for a moment, then he nods… and starts texting on his phone. It’s unnerving, watching him do this as if I’m not sitting naked between his legs. I let my gaze fall on his lap, where I can see the outline of his cock through his pants. How the hell is he still so calm when he’s hard? I’ve never met a man with this level of self-control before.
A few minutes later, I hear Saint and Angelo’s voices.
“You didn’t mention you had Lucia with you!” Saint says.
I try to turn my head to look at them, but Victor grips me tighter and forces me to keep looking in his direction.
“Detail the routes,” he says. “Santino will verify them.”
I describe the routes, starting with the simplest and going to the most complicated. They aren’t a secret amongst the guards, who have a nasty habit of running their mouths in bed. Besides, they aren’t complicated. There are only so many ways they can go. The actual valuable information here is that they don’t vary up the routes more frequently and that they’re so predictable. It feels strange looking at Victor the entire time, when I’m actually talking to Saint, but Victor never loosens his grip.
Angelo laughs when I finish. “Damn, we could intercept them easily with this. I’d have a clear shot if we—”
“No,” Victor interrupts flatly. “If we do that, we give ourselves away. There are better uses for this information.”
I hear footsteps on the patio, but I’m not sure what’s going on until Saint is crouching next to me, the cushion from the other chair in his hands. “Here. Kneel on this. That has to be killing your knees.”
The small considerate gesture surprises me, but I know he’ll probably want something in return for it later. Still, I mumble a thank you as he helps situate me. All the while, Victor just watches, neither visibly approving nor disapproving of what Saint’s doing.
It’s a relief to have my knees off the hard stone, but I can’t relax. With all three of them here, I’m acutely aware of how vulnerable I am.
“Santino, hold this.” Victor passes the leash to Saint. With his hands free, Victor unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants.
