Page 36 of The Contract

“Are you safe?”

I swallow hard at the familiar question. “Yes.”

“Whose phone is this?”

“Tristan’s.”

I gave him Tristan’s name after he signed the contract. It’s one of the rules.

“Is he safe?”

I don’t answer because I’m so fucking angry that probably no one is safe around me right now.

Noah asks, “Why did Tristan call me and why did you take the phone from him?”

“He’s angry about something I did.”

“What did you do, Dante?”

“I moved his stuff into my place and terminated his lease,” I answer in a flat voice.

Noah is silent for a long while. He doesn’t ask for context. He knows me well enough to put things together himself. Then he says, “He needs to have his own place.”

“His apartment wasn’t safe.”

“Then find him a safe one. Tomorrow, Dante.”

I grind my teeth. Anger seethes in my belly.

“Confirm,” Noah says.

“Yes,” I grit out.

“Good. Give the phone to Tristan.”

I hold out the phone. Tristan still looks furious, but he also looks surprised and wary. He snatches the phone from me.

“Hello?” he says. “Yes, I’m okay.” He listens for a while, then his shoulders sag with relief and he says, “Good. Thank you.” Then he says, “Yeah, I will. Thanks.”

He ends the call. As he lowers the phone, all the tension returns to his body. There’s still some anger, but it’s not as strong. He got his way. But he still has me to deal with.

I say with icy cold, “I gave you his number for emergencies, not so you could leverage him against me.”

“Who is he?”

“That’s none of your fucking business. Give me the phone.”

Tristan hesitates then hands it to me. I take it to the kitchen and set it on the island.

“Go to the play room,” I tell him.

I watch as he considers fighting me on it. He decides not to. I follow him to the play room. I close the door behind us.

He draws back from me, but I catch him by his tie. He stiffens, but I only untie it. Then I push his suspenders off his shoulders. When I tug his shirt free of his waistband, he sucks in a breath. He’s semi-hard by the time I have it off him, but he doesn’t try to touch me or participate.

His instincts are good. He knows I’m dangerous right now. That doesn’t stop his cock from stiffening as I remove his pants and briefs.

“Get on the bed,” I order him. “Kneel facing me.”

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