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“You writhe on my lap and fuck yourself on my fingers. Then you play coy with providing the one thing of value a woman like you has. Some might find the act tiring.”
I toy with the hem of my dress while processing his words. Tiring or stupid? His assessment should inspire fear, but it doesn’t. Maybe I’ve become numb to common sense?
“And a man such as yourself would never respect a woman who rushes to spill her ex-lover’s secrets,” I reply. “My bargain was for myself alone. I’m sure you already know everything there is to know about Braulio and his business. Anything I tell you would be petty gossip, far beyond your business interests.”
“You have a pretty little reply for everything, don’t you? Tell me something else, and this time don’t give me your rehearsed bullshit. I want an authentic answer,sí?”
I consider the request. It sounds harmless enough, but nothing ever is with him.
“Okay.”
“What were you thinking of when you were fucking me? You were awfully soaked. Even my best girls don’t gush like that.”
My cheeks flame, and an impulsive reply rips out of me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
He releases the wheel to capture my wrist with one hand. “No, don’t give me that.” The tone of his voice dips in a terrifying way. “I mean it. I’ve humored you until now, but I’m warning you. I’m growing tired of your game. Answer the question.”
I squirm and fidget with my skirt, trapped into saying something. “I thought about… How different it felt to what I expected.”
“Are you telling me Idon’thave a magic dick?” he taunts.
“Maybe you do.” There’s horror in my voice instead of admiration, and I think that alone is why he doesn’t scoff at the comparison. “I braced myself for pain. To endure it. To fake an orgasm and give you a show that would make a good impression.”
“You’re saying that wasn’t a show?”
“It wasn’t. I would have been far more convincing otherwise.” I look at him directly, but his eyes are fixed straight ahead. He’s stewing over that confession, squaring it with whatever conclusions he’s already come to. “I’m sure you realize that.”
“I will admit that those in my harem know to crow about how big my cock is. Never to tell me to go slow. To take what I give them with a sexy little smile.”
“Would you prefer if I did that?”
He laughs but doesn’t rush to agree. “I desire for women to be as expected. Sexy. Sweet. Quiet. Something tells me you are only afewof those things, chica.”
“I didn’t think you’d want to see me again,” I confess, hoping to change the subject.
“Don’t sell yourself short now.” Rather than laughter, a guttural sound resonates in his throat. “There is one thing you’ll learn about me, Lupe or Tiena. Whoever you are. I love a good mystery. Nothing in the world thrills me more than seeing through a veil of bullshit to the truth lurking underneath.”
I struggle to keep my expression blank. “You think I’ve fed you bullshit?”
“I do. I think you talk a good game, little Lupe. You lie so convincingly, that even I might have fallen for your story from the outset. Normally I don’t fuck those who seek to deceive me. You have my interest. I’m curious to see what you’ll do with it.”
As if on cue, we arrive at our destination—an Italian-style restaurant, far more elegant than what I would expect where he is concerned. He helps me out of the car and guides me inside. In the periphery, I note at least three men who trail into the lobby after us, but when we’re finally seated, it’s only Jaguar and me at a table in a private dining room that overlooks a beautiful courtyard and an illuminated garden.
We’re served sparkling water, wine worth more than a year of rent, and an elegant spread of appetizers.
I sample dishes at random, tasting nothing. My full attention is on the man across from me—even the best thing I’ve ever tasted can’t compare.
To strengthen my unease, he hasn’t eaten anything. He watches me instead.
“As much fun as I’ve had enjoying your company, Lupe, I would like to turn our discussion to business.”
“Oh?”
“You said you offered yourself to me. Your soul.But—”He folds his hands together and sits forward. “When you make a deal with the devil, chica, he needs to know he can collect.”
I nearly choke on a mouthful of salad. Grasping for a napkin, I press it to my lips and regain my senses before daring to speak. “Last night wasn’t proof enough?”
I don’t sound insulted. Maybe I’m not. He would not be here if he wasn’t interested in me even a little. Perhaps it’s as simple as he claimed—I’m a mystery he’s eager to solve and then shelve.
