Page 47 of Devil Mine

“Yes,” he finally says.

“I’ll call again.” It’s a terrible idea, but short of me going back to London, it’s the only thing I can think of that he might accept. “We can talk.”

His voice is gruff beyond recognition when he replies.

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tonight.”

“What? No.” Why does he want to talk to me again today? “I’ll decide when.”

“Tomorrow,” he orders.

“Thiago, I’ll hang up right now and you’ll never hear from me again if you push me.”

“Fine,” he concedes grumpily. “But it has to be this week. Any longer and my trigger finger will get restless.”

“You’re an animal.”

A slow, smug grin pulls at his lips and hits me right in my core. “You haven’t seen anything.”

The sexual undertone of his declaration has goosebumps breaking out all over my body.

“I’m hanging up now,” I announce.

“Alright,amor. I’ll miss you.”

I pause, realizing that no one outside of my mum, brother, and Dagny has ever said those words to me. Not any of my past relationships, not any of my other friends.

He stays on the line, watching me. Waiting for me to end the call. I find myself thinking about tracing every single one of his tattoos with my tongue.

“I’m not coming back; you know that right?”

I’ve said it before, but this time is different. I want him to hear the sincerity in my voice, the categorical truth of my statement.

If I expected him to growl or get angry, he surprises me. He simply sits back in his chair and wraps one hand around the fist of the other.

“I know.”

“You’ll let me go?” I question, surprised.

Maybe even a little disappointed.

“No,amor.” He shakes his head slowly, like what I just said is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “I’m going to track you down and drag you back here myself, just like you want.”

“Good luck with that,” I answer flippantly.

The pleased smile he gives me chills me to my bones. It’s almost unnatural in its satisfaction.

“There’s a very fine line between confidence and arrogance,” he notes.

My hand tightens around the phone, my own smile tensing in place. “What does that mean?”

“You made a mistake.”

“What?” I ask, rattled.

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