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“This business is all about expanding, and the truth is, we didn’t start this, they did. They may not realize it or remember, but they started the war between us. I’m just going to be the one to finish it.”
“By building a sex club,” I say.
“If that’s what you think,” he says with a grin that holds nothing but secrets.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You asked,” he says with a shrug.
“Yeah, but you could lie, or you could not answer. You could tell me to shut the hell up and stop asking questions.”
He leans forward, elbows on the table. “I have other ways to get you to shut up if I wanted you to, and besides, I know you’re not going to say anything.”
My spine straightens. “How?”
“You’re here with me, and you know who I am and the reach I have. You don’t want anything to happen to you, your friends, or your family.”
I clear my throat and reach for my wine. “I see.” After my sip, I ask, “Did you find anything out about Theo?”
“I will talk to Rey later, but nobody will find you here. Don’t worry.”
He means it as a comforting statement, but it also reads like a threat.Nobody will find me here.
Ironic that I’m hiding from people who want to hurt me with a man that’s probably worse than them all.
“Let me ask you a question now, Mariella,” he says, picking up his utensils to start eating again. “Did you like what you saw in the room downstairs?”
He looks up, his eyes glittering with wickedness.
He knew. Of course he knew.
I stutter through a few words that come out as nothing more than garbled sounds. He leans back in his chair, wiping the corner of his mouth before licking the flavor from his thumb.
“I was looking for wine.”
“Not what you found, though, was it?”
I swallow, stabbing my fork through a potato. “Just a bedroom.”
“Hmm,” he murmurs. “Well, this dinner was delicious. Thank you for making it.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply, watching him get up from the table. “Are you…going to bed?”
Amusement flashes across his face. He likes that I’m curious about where he’s going. “No.” He takes his dishes to the sink and starts rinsing them off before depositing them into the dishwasher. He pulls his phone from his pocket, and after a few touches on his screen, he brings it to his ear and speaks. “Call Nicola. Yes. For tonight. She’ll need a ride back home.”
My brows knit in the center as I listen to his side of the conversation. Is he inviting a woman over here? He finds my gaze and holds it.
“An hour and a half. Perfect.”
After he puts the phone on the counter, I turn in my chair. “Is someone coming over?”
He looks at me with a casualness that bothers me. “Huh? Oh. Yes, but we won’t bother you. We’ll be downstairs.”
His piercing stare is a challenge. He wants me to say something. He’s needling me into jealousy. The sad thing is, it’s working.
“You’re going to be downstairs with a woman?” I question, knowing I already have my answer, but needing to hear it again.
He saunters around the counter with confidence. “Yes. You’re free to make yourself at home.”
