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“Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“You can ask, but I don’t promise I’ll answer.” He dropped his hands to his lap, worry and exhaustion wrinkled his brow. Maybe he’d had enough of all the pretending as well.
“I heard Mae talking to Courtney at breakfast today. Mae complained that since I got here, you haven’t had playtime with anyone else.” Ariana hugged her knees tighter.
“Oh?” He arched an eyebrow.
“She said she missed playtime with you.” Ariana swallowed, clearing her throat. She couldn’t sound like a jealous girlfriend. She was neither of those things.
“Hmmm.” He made a face that suggested he was thinking it over. “I suppose I haven’t had any play dates since you arrived.”
“Is it because the daddies are only supposed to have playtime with one girl?” she asked, pushing as much of a feathery touch to her voice as possible.
He shook his head. “No. We’re allowed to play with any of the girls. We’re good about talking with the other Daddies though. Some of them have the girls on a specific training schedule, so we take that into consideration. Some of the girls don’t have a Daddy right away. Courtney didn’t when she got here. For the first few weeks, she was taken care of by mostly the nannies and whoever else had time for her. Now she has Marco. We’re only supposed to have one dedicated girl at a time. But sometimes there aren’t enough Daddies living here to do that.”
Ariana’s chest clenched. “That means you had a girl before me, and she was adopted…I mean sold?”
Costello leveled a steady gaze on her. “Yes.” He gave a curt nod. “I’ve been here a year. You’re my fourth girl.”
“But not your fourth playmate,” she accused with heat.
The bubble of hurt surprised her. They weren’t anything to each other. He was her prison guard, and she was the prisoner. Nothing more. She had no right to have any feelings about it.
“No,” he said without emotion. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking when he blacked out his tone. Was he getting upset about her line of questioning, or was he defensive, or did he not give a fuck what she thought about the whole thing?
“So, if you wanted to, you could take Courtney for a play date?” She kept asking even though she didn’t really want the answers. Things had been so much better when she’d thought she was completely alone in this.
“If Marco gave the okay, yes.” He folded his hands and leaned back in the chair. “And if Marco wanted to take you on a play date and I gave my approval, you’d be sent to his room,” he further explained.
Her mouth dried. He’d do that? He’d send her to another Daddy’s room?
“We really are just a bunch of drugged out whores for you guys,” she said softly, letting her arms fall away from her knees. Pulling off her shoes, she let them drop to the floor. “I think I’m going to lie down now. You can go…do whatever you do, Costello.”
“Ariana.” He folded his arms over his chest, the blank expression twisting back into his authoritarian glare. “What did I tell you last night?”
“A lot was said last night,” she said, wiggling beneath the warmth of her light purple quilt.
“Then let me remind you.” He pushed off the chair, getting to her side within two large strides. He pressed his hands into the mattress and hovered his face over hers. “You’re mine, Ariana. Mine. Not Nancy’s, not Marco’s, mine. And there’s no way I’m letting anyone have a play date with my girl.”
Her chest expanded with emotion, but she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The feeling was too foreign for her, too new. He wanted to keep her for himself. And Costello was a possessive man. He wouldn’t let anyone play with his toys.
But did she want to be his toy?
“Did you let the Daddies play with your other girls?” she asked quietly. Just because he didn’t like sharing his things, didn’t mean being his held any more meaning.
His nostrils flared. “Yes. I did.”
“But you won’t with me?” she pushed, getting used to the sweet blossoming in her chest.
“No. And do you know why that is?”
“Because you think I’m yours?” she whispered. A storm brewed in his gaze. If she pushed the wrong way, the winds would take her somewhere she wasn’t ready to go.
“No, little girl,” he said, his voice raw and low. “Because I know you’re mine. And I know you think this is still pretend, but it’s not. I’m not Costello to you.” He grabbed hold of her chin, pinching hard until she winced. “Who am I?”
“This is stupid,” she protested.
“Who am I, Ariana?” he asked again, in a near growl.
She knew what he wanted. The correct answer, but saying it would make it real. And everything about it was wrong. This was all a fucked-up mess. She couldn’t be thinking to make it anything more than an act. Ariana just needed to keep pretending in order to get out of this House and away from the Romero family.
