Page 91 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
“I sat outside your apartment all those nights.”
“Youdid?” It makes sense, now knowing who Alessandro is.
He nods.
“And?”
“You don’t fit in with the plan.”
I frown. Not fit in … “What do you mean?”
“Sandro’s the Beneventi heir. His will isn’t his own anymore—it belongs to his father.” He places his forearms on the bar and leans in. “And you, Riley, are Sandro’s dirty little secret.”
Dirty little secret.
“Did he tell you that?”
Tommaso straightens. “I’ve said enough, but I’ll leave you with this. Play your cards right, and you’ll likely survive.”
“You mean obey my jailor?”
“We’re all prisoners, in one shape or form.”
“He’s not,” I exclaim.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Tommaso’s expression sobers. “Sandro’s more trapped than any of us.”
Alessandro’s sittingin a chair beside my bed when I wake up. Watching me sleep, like he did the night before the explosion. Looking every bit as troubled as he did then.
My heart leaps. “You’re home.”
Really, Riley? Home? I sound like a 1950s housewife welcoming her man back from the office. Except, this isn’t my home, he isn’t returning from a hard day at the office, and I’m not his wife—but hostage.
“What would you do if I removed the tracking device right now?” he silkily asks like he’s inquiring about my favorite tea blend.
I blink sleep from my eyes and grumble, “You won’t take it off.”
He grunts. “You sure?”
I tug the sheet higher, forming a cocoon around my body as if it could protect me. But even if it were steel, studded with pointed blades aimed at him, I’d still be at his mercy. It doesn’t help that he’s woken me, that I’m naked and exposed. “I’m your pet, right? So why set me free when you enjoy keeping me trapped?”
“What would I do if I set you free?” His eyes darken, and suddenly I’m completely awake.
“What would you do?” I whisper.
His grin’s downright sinister. “I’d hunt you down, then spend hours bringing you to climax then denying you release. I won’t be satisfied until your skin’s pink and your body’s bent, straining beneath me. Then, you’d beg me for permission in that fucking sexy,needyvoice of yours.”
Oh my God. He’s thought about this.A lot. If I didn’t know better, it’s almost as if he missed me while he was gone.
Impossible. I’m his plaything and a tool for his pleasure.
His face is still slightly bruised, but he’s impossibly handsome, gorgeous if you will. “If we had more time…” His muttered words trail off.
Regret? No, it can’t be. The cobwebs in my mind are holding me hostage to ridiculous thoughts. Like our connection’s still there. Like he snuck into my room and woke me up because he couldn’t wait to see me.
With a soft curse, he abruptly stands.
A familiar loss sweeps over me as our connection slips away on a whisper.
