Page 28 of Justice for Francesca

He continued, “Mila was a VIP member, which meant she had the use of all of our properties, but she and I were not compatible in a temporary or permanent sense. She preferred pain with her sex.”

“So you’re not a sadist?”

“Absolutely not. I’m well-trained in a lot of things in the BDSM world. I helped with demos at the club and screened Dominants for Tabitha, but personally, my proclivities are much more… temperate than that. I was definitely not into providing pain for my partners, even if they wanted or needed it.”

Her heart was in her throat. She couldn’t seem to stop it from flying from her mouth. “What was your thing?”

His eyes became more intense.

“Shoot. Sorry,” she backpedaled. “Not pertinent to the investigation. Forget I asked.”

“Absolutely not. I said you could ask any question you needed to ask, and I would tell the truth. I didn’t specify if it had to be about the investigation, and I never qualified that personal questions were off the table.” His grin became mischievous. “You’re going to owe me quite a few questions. I think you’ve asked three without allowing me my turn. Why did you never participate in scenes at The Library?”

Francesca licked her lips. “I was undercover. BDSM isn’t my thing.”

“Bullshit. I’m not ashamed to admit that I watched you closely while you were a member. There were definitely a number of things that turned you on. You may not be a true submissive, but you’re definitely a bottom.”

He’d watched her? He’d known what turned her on? She could feel heat rising in her face, and the edge of panic formed in her stomach. “I most certainly am not!”

Tripoli smiled at her. It held no malice or teasing. Instead, it let her know he was onto her fib. “Oh, you so are. In three months, you never initiated a single conversation. I always had to greet you first, ask you what you wanted to drink, and you deferred to my choice so often I stopped asking.”

Francesca didn’t answer. He wasn’t wrong. She’d been trying to play the part, but all too quickly, it had become natural behavior.

“Fleur, look at me.” He leaned forward and ran the back of a finger along her cheek. “I’m willing to bet you’ve never initiated a single sexual encounter that you’ve had in your life unless you were playing by yourself. And I definitely believe that you let your partner take all the control during sex itself.”

Her entire body felt like it was on fire now, and the panic was threatening to escape.

“Sweetheart, it’s BDSM. No one in the community would think less of you for being a submissive and an FBI agent. Submissives come from all occupations, as well as being the bulk of the community. Everyone’s wired differently, even the alphas. Lobo? He’s into bondage only. Cosmos is a voyeur. Triumph’s not into kink at all. We’re all different.”

Pursuing this line of questioning was personal, not case-related, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “You never answered. What are you?”

“Wouldn’t you prefer to figure it out for yourself?”

Francesca couldn’t help but gasp.

He moved his finger to her lips, shaking his head. “Don’t answer that question. Not today. Think about it. I’m not going anywhere.”

When he removed his finger, she attempted to collect herself and get back on track with her questions. “Why did you have a key to your emcee’s apartment?” Her voice sounded small, even to her ears, and she found herself unable to say the woman’s name.

“Is that a personal question or a professional question?”

She cleared her throat and said more assertively, “Professional.”

“Mm-hmm.” His smile was knowing, but it faded when he began to answer her question. “Jessa has no family. Well, no family she admits to. She wanted someone to have a key in case of emergencies. Since she was new to San Antonio, and I was the only one she knew in town, she felt I was more trustworthy than neighbors she didn’t know. I’ve never used it before today.” He shifted closer to her on the couch, his fingertips now brushing the shell of her ear.

“So you weren’t ‘in the area’ because you were planning to see her?”

He leaned forward, speaking earnestly to her, his eyes never wavering. “To answer the question you’re not asking me… No. I’ve never had sex with Jessa. For the record, I never had sex with Mila either. It’s been over two years. I haven’t been with anyone since a beautiful flower girl waltzed into The Library. If she didn’t want to play with me, I didn’t want to play with anyone else.”

Francesca couldn’t help but be stunned by his confession. It couldn’t be real, yet his entire body read like he was speaking the absolute truth.

His arm went to the back of the couch, but his fingers brushed lightly back and forth across her shoulder. “You lied to Cruz today. About who told you that Jessa was dead. Why?”

She must have been biting her lip because she felt Tripoli free it from her attacking teeth, her nerves jangling when he touched her chin and turned her head to face him.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I’ve never lied before, not even by omission. All my life, I’ve been so sensitive to doing anything even remotely unethical. I don’t want to be like my brothers or my father, and I don’t want to be complacent to their activities like my mother is.”

“I promise. I didn’t murder Jessa. I wouldn’t. My employees are like family to me. I protect them.” He smoothed a hand over her hair, and the gesture was incredibly soothing. “What name do you prefer to be called?”

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