“Yeah,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. “Same time tomorrow?”
“Stay sharp,” Rocco says before cutting the call.
The screen goes dark, leaving me staring at my own reflection, the faint outlines of the room behind me.
What a fucking mess.
But what did I expect? That we’d be out here for a week, that I could avoid my mother’s schemings and head back to Brooklyn with a compliant Carmen in tow, and everything would go back to normal?
It’s been the better part of a month. My mother has not given me an inch to breathe, and now Rocco’s telling me that Brooklyn could be months away.
And Carmen…
Carmen is playing an entirely different game now.
It’s my own fault. I revealed my hand too eagerly. There’s no talking my way out of what happened last night, no excuse for the fact that I watched. That Iencouraged.
That I’d run straight back to my rooms to relieve the ache of my throbbing cock while imagining her flushed face and breathy groans. That I imagined that I was the one drawing them out of her as I dreamed of her soft body pliant in my hands.
It absolutely crossed the line, and now she knows my weakness. Now, she’s using it against me.
“I think I could use some further instruction.”
It’s a terrible, awful, unthinkable idea for lots of very good and pragmatic reasons. For one, Leon will kill me. For two, there’s probably something problematic about me exploiting a position of power over a prisoner, no matter how eager she is.
Third, she has to remainpure.For the Cartel.
I’m not stupid enough to believe that a woman who has barely even touched herself for twenty-four years is willing to break her streak on her enemy captor.
Even if Iwereto take her up on her offer—which I’m absolutely not considering—it’s not like it could go as far as penetration. And it’s not that there aren’t creative ways to avoid such things, I’m just not sure if I’d be able to restrain myself if I started.
But the most important thing—because I’m absolutely not considering it—is that this is absolutely, one hundred percent a ruse so that she can try to escape.
So there are lots of very good and pragmatic reasons never to visit the dungeon again.
Except, by the time I’ve mentally finished this list, I’m already halfway there.
I don’t even recall getting up from my desk.
Fuck.
This is really the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve done alotof very stupid things. I suppose all that’s left to do is pray to whatever gods?—
“Dante?”
My mother’s voice freezes me in my tracks as I begin the descent down the stairs to the basement. I’m not sure if I should feel grateful or irritated by the interruption.
“Yeah?”
Evelina’s head peers around the corner and offers a practiced smile. “Did you not hear me calling?”
“No?”
“You must come with me,” she goes as far as to hold her hand out to me. “We have an important visitor.”
I glance down the remaining stairs, feeling a petulant tug from somewhere within my sternum. “Can’t it wait?”
“Now, Dante,” she doesn’t leave room for negotiation.