Page 67 of Deception

We’ve even taken to preparing meals together, like everything else we do. Today is no different.

Isabella tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, chopping fruits and vegetables across from me.

She pops a slice of melon into her mouth, eyeing my chest peeking out from the only piece of clothing either of us wears. My robes are just thick enough to keep us warm in the colder parts of the house.

Her intentions are all too clear.

She wants me again.

And I intend to take her as soon as we finish eating. Maybe right here on the kitchen counter.

“Aless, may I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Your work…your work and your family life. How do you keep those things separate?” It’s an odd question. One of those queries that makes me wonder if she knows more about me than she’s let on.

“I don't. This is honestly the most time to myself that I've had in years. Everything about my workismy family. My family is my job. The most important thing in my life.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“It is. But better me than some other narcissistic tyrant.”

I see one of her eyebrows rise, a rebuttal on her lips.

“I may be stern, ruthless even, but I’m fair. My uncle taught me that. To value people, give them opportunities to succeed.

“And when they don’t?”

“There are consequences for everything in life.”

I notice her eyes narrow, contemplating. It tickles an itch in the back of my mind I’ve ignored. But as usual, I second-guess the meaning. She’s probably just curious, and I am evasive about my life.

“What about when somebody gets in your way or betrays you?”

“Two very different things.”

“How so?”

“You have to understand, Isabella, getting in mywayrequires a solution, an equal reaction. It’s as simple as removing the obstacle by whatever means suits the situation. And I always remove the obstacle. There are an infinite number of ways to do that.”

“Such as?”

“Reasoning, or when necessary bribes, coercion. In business, we just call it negotiating. Things don’t always have to resort to violence. Threats work too.”

“And what about betrayal?”

I find my mind wandering back to Dom, to our life leading up to his recent, heinous act. Isa waits patiently for me to answer. “When somebody turns on me, when somebody lies to me, to my face, garners my trust and then throws it in the fucking trash? There's only one solution for that.”

I meet her gaze, hard and cold.

She doesn’t look away, but she swallows hard, visibly.

And I realize that I'm gripping the countertop, my fingers popping as I clench the knife in my hand, gouging the tip into the cutting board. “Sorry. I can get a little carried away.”

“I-I like it,” her voice stutters just a hint, but she means it.

“I don't think you always will.” I snap before I catch myself.

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