Page 33 of The Contract

“Kenzie will take you because I have to go into the office, but you’ll actually be packing up your things to bring them here.”

When I stare at him uncomprehendingly, he clarifies, “You’re staying here now.”

My heart skips. This is big. Huge. And totally unexpected. I hedge, “I thought you didn’t like people being here.”

“That’s different.”

“Oh. What if I don’t want to stay here?” I’m not sure how I feel about this.

He plates his omelet and fixes me with his dark, intent gaze. “Then you’ll have to say your safe word. Otherwise, it’s happening.”

ELEVEN

Dante

My phone buzzes in my pocket, but my hands are bloody. I leave the holding cell and shut the door on my captive’s sobs. Normally, I would ignore the phone when I’m in the middle of an interrogation, but I have a feeling it’s about Tristan.

Part of me is alarmed by how quickly he’s taken center stage in my mind, distracting me from other work, making that work seem likeit’sthe distraction fromhim. That part of me hopes my obsession will burn itself out as quickly as it ignited.

Another part of me doesn’t want this to ever end—which is actually the scariest thought of all.

This has never happened before. I’ve certainly never moved anyone in with me.

But Tristan is different.

Looking back, it was obvious from the start, but I didn’t really know it until he watched me stitch my leg. I think his response surprised him as much as it surprised me. I don’t think I’ve ever come as hard as I did when I fucked him on that bathroom floor, when I clamped my hand on his throat to show him how fully I was taking possession of him.

He wants it, maybe needs it. But he fights himself on it—and fights me. So I’m pretty sure I know exactly what text message I just received.

After washing my hands in the warehouse basement’s small bathroom, I sit in the chair at my research station. The monitors show the feeds from my surveillance of Lorenzo Capelli. There’s a huge stack of folders at the edge of the desk. Notes. Pictures.All kinds of shit. One of the folders is open to reveal my handwritten notes on the dealer in the holding cell.

Normally, I ignore bottom-feeding scum like him. I prefer to focus on abusers and creeps. It’s not altruistic. It’s just part of the rules.

Noah helped me figure them out, and he wouldn’t be happy if he knew how much time I’m spending on anyone tied to Capelli. He thinks I should kill Capelli and be done with it. But this is my game, and I’ll play it like I want.

I don’t want to simply kill Capelli. I want to destroy him first, and I want to do it a piece at a time.

Tristan, however, keeps rearranging my schedule.

I pull out my phone and read Kenzie’s message.

He doesn’t want to move his shit

I smile. I fucking knew it. And I’m both annoyed and delighted. I message back,Let him have his way.

Kenzie:Shiiiiiit! He’s in for it, isn’t he?

I type,Don’t let him know that.

Kenzie:Dammit! You get to have all the fun

I do. In fact, my cock is already hardening at the thought of exactly how angry Tristan will be when I realizes what I’ve done. Rather, what I’m about to do … as soon as he leaves for work.

***

I’m in the kitchen when I hear the penthouse door. I told Kenzie to give Tristan my code when she brought him back from Lush. He walks in with a ratty duffle bag like he’s here for a fucking sleepover. It’s not easy to suppress my evil grin, but I manage. I want him to eat before shit hits the fan.

He hesitates briefly at the kitchen entrance, but something about me cooking seems to make him comfortable. Am I less threatening with an apron over my jeans and t-shirt? Does hethink it’s going to prevent me from throwing him down and fucking him if I want to?

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