Page 121 of The Billionaire's Secret
"That’s what you think this is?" I scoff. "You having my best interests at heart?"
"Not really." He pauses. "I’m using you to get back at the men who changed my life and those of the Seven."
“Has it occurred to you that they’re using me too?”
Silence.
"What…what did they do to you Saint?"
He stiffens. Anger radiates off of him. I flinch.
What the hell am I doing? Why did I ask him that? Is it because my eyes are bound? Is it because I can’t see him, that I am so tuned into him that I can discern the imperceptible edge of fear—helplessness even—that bleeds from him? Nah, that’s my imagination. There is not an ounce of weakness about this man. Not only am I unable to see, but my remaining senses have been fooled by him as well.
"It’s fine," I swallow. "Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know."
"You giving up so easily?" His hard voice whips through my head.
I straighten. "Giving up?" I allow a smile to curve my lips. "I haven’t made it this far by losing hope. It’s the only thing I have to cling to."And you? What about you? Why do I want to lean on you?What insanity is this, that even bound and blindfolded, knowing he can do anything to me, I trust him…to play with my body any which way he wants?
That’s all this is—a carnal need for him to possess me, break me, show me how it can be between a woman and a man. So what, if there aren’t any emotions involved? It’ll make it easier for me to lure him to whatever… Whatever it is that the Mafia has planned for him. I don’t care what happens after that. I don’t. As long as they free my friend. That’s all this is about. It doesn’t matter that my heart will be shattered by the end. I’ll find a way to go on. I always do. I tip up my chin, "Chili pepper."
"What?" He sounds surprised.
"That was a five-spice sauce."
"You’re right."
He pauses, then tears the blindfold from my eyes. I blink. His face comes into focus. "So…you’ll untie me now?"
He scratches his chin.
I frown. "The deal was, if I got the answers right you would—"
"I would...?"
An understanding sinks into my mind. "You… You…"
"I’ll…?" he prompts.
"You’ll let me come?" I train my gaze on his face.Please. Please say, yes. Please.
He shakes his head.
I stare.
"I changed my mind," he smirks.
"What?" That familiar anger thrums up my spine. My blood thuds at my temples and my heartbeat ratchets up.
He steps to the cart, scoops up some of that last spicy dip onto his cracker, then pops it in his mouth. Color sears his cheeks, then he reaches for more of the Champagne and washes it down. "Whew, you weren’t kidding there. It is hot."
"You…you horrible man."
He chuckles.
"You can’t do this to me."
He cuts off a slice of cheese—not the blue cheese, something else that looks like cheddar?—and bites into it. His jaws move. He tips the bottle of Champagne up, then chugs down more liquid. The strong column of his throat flexes as he swallows it down.Why the hell does he have to look sexy, doing something as simple as eating?He reaches for a strawberry, is about to pop it into his mouth then stops.
