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“I’m helping you. Say you do,” I murmur, just low enough for her to hear, “or I start picking off the people you love, one by one. Mateo was just the start, little one. Next is your father, if you don’t do what I say.”
She whimpers, the sound making my dick stiffen even more, and huffs a single breath. Slowly, I slide my hand to her chin, ready to pounce if she screams again.
But she seems to think better of it, instead focusing on my eyes, refusing to look away.
“Why?” she whispers, and I think about her asking the same about Mateo, how she didn’t seem to judge, just wanted to know my reasoning. As if every action, even the most despicable ones, can be explained away if you try hard enough.
I hook my thumb under her chin, tilting her head up, admission on the tip of my tongue. My secrets beg to be split wide open, to bleed out on the floor for her, but I know I can’t risk it.
Not yet, anyway. Not before she’s mine.
So, instead, I shake my head, offering her a little grin. “Why not?”
