Page 91 of In Love with the Devil

“But what?”

“Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

“I thought you’d heard everything there was to know about me, the ice queen, the nazi…”

“I want to hear it from you, Astoria.”

I shrug. “There’s nothing special about me. I moved here three years ago, fell in love with this hotel, and started working here. I just bought my first home and I like my life the way it is.”

“And… before?”

“I lived in the United States, where I was born. My mother was Puerto Rican.”

“And your father?”

“Never existed. We were poor, and I learned that if I wanted to get out of poverty, I would have to work harder than anyone I knew, so that’s what I did and I like my life the way it is.”

“Yes, you keep saying that. What are you hiding, Astoria?”

“Am I being accused of something?”

“No. But I can tell something has you tied around its little finger. You’re wound up quite tight.”

“Well, maybe you should mind your own business.”

“Careful with your tone, ice .”

“Are we on the clock?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought, so let me put it to you this way. First of all, it's ice queen to you. Second of all, you really should mind your own fucking business.”

Laughter bursts out of him.

Why do I have the feeling I’ve been caught in a spider’s web? “I need to leave.”

A panic attack is rising in me, perhaps because he’s walking right behind me. When I turn the door handle, his palm flattens on the door above me, keeping it shut. The trapped sensation takes my breath and energy away. My legs are about to fail me. I can’t think.Not again.

“Sebastian, it’s been a lovely dinner and now I need to go home.” I form a fist with my other hand and turn around. He kisses me and I kiss him back. His lips are thick, consuming mine. Then his tongue slips into my mouth, trying to dominate me. My protest is muffled. He continues and I lean my back on the door. Our breaths are heavy.

I push at his chest but he doesn’t stop. I stomp on his foot. Still doesn’t stop. I yank my lips away from him, looking to the side, and my right hand flies to slap him, but he catches my wrist in the air.

“Don’t do this.” I’m losing my brave front. "Please." Fuck. I messed up already. Never beg.

“Don’t do what? Kiss you?”

“Don’t force yourself on me.”

His gaze and thumb sweep across my wet, swollen lips. “But you like it, Astoria.”

I whimper and shake my head.

“I already told you. I will not hurt you. You’re safe.”

“You’re n–not making me feel safe. I want to go home now.”

“Say please.”

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