Page 53 of Surrender

“Where the fuck are we going now?” I ask, grateful that it’s late enough for traffic to be light.

“Head toward the highway,” Fox says quietly. He’s staring out the window, so I can’t see his face. “Exit 84. I’ll give you directions from there.”

I cast a sharp look at him, but he doesn’t look back at me. My life is in his hands right now, and I have no choice but to trust him. I get on the highway, my mind racing. “Where are we going?” I finally ask. “Safe house?”

“Yeah. Or something.” Fox sighs and sits back, grabbing a tissue from the center console and using it to wipe the blade. “Too bad. I was having fun.”

I bark out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. Right up until the boss got murdered.” I’d been having fun, too, and it feels horribly unfair that life would deliver Fox to me only to punish me like this. Maybe it’s the universe’s way of telling me I shouldn’t have lost my temper with him. I don’t know. “Did you, though?” I ask, my voice muted. “I pretty much beat you because I lost my temper.”

“Huh?” Fox looks at me, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“The belting,” I say. “I shouldn’t have done it when I was angry.” I pause, then add, “I shouldn’t have done it at all, really. You’re allowed to talk to other men.”

Just not Silvano.

Just not anyone who’s flirting with him.

Just not…

Anyone. Damn it.

“Okay. Whatever.” Fox goes back to looking out the window. “Way to spoil the entire evening, then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask him, and it’s my turn to be confused.

“I just thought you were being serious when you said you wanted me. I should have known better.” Fox reclines his seat back and closes his eyes. “Keep driving, Daddy.”

“I was being serious,” I say before he can say anything else. We pass signs for exit 81. Almost there. “Christ, Fox, I was seeing red over you even talking to another man. You think that’s normal? Healthy? I’m not some abusive prick who has to have total dominion over you.” Except maybe I am.

“Yep, I heard you the first time.” He doesn’t open his eyes. “It’s fine. I don’t want some half-hearted, weak, soft Daddy anyway.”

“Excuse me?” I demand, bristling. “I’m not weak, or half-hearted, or any of those things, and you fucking know it. Do you want to get a rise out of me, Fox? Is that it? Do you want to hear me say that I want to pull over on the side of the road and fucking beat you senseless for calling me those things? Because I do want to, and it’s wrong.”

Isn’t it?

“And after you do, you’ll moan and cry about how you didn’t actually mean it, and it was so terrible that you got off with me, and I should be on my way.” Fox makes a disgusted noise. “Maybe you should pull over and I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Fuck you,” I say, my voice rising in heat and volume. “I’m not letting you go anywhere. Do you hear me? You’re mine. I’m just saying I should treat you better. Why is that so fucking wrong?”

“If you want a boy who wants you to treat him nice, then you definitely should fucking let me out now.” Fox sits up again and looks out the window. “How fast are you driving right now?”

“Fast enough to where you’d fucking die if you tried to jump out of the speeding car, so don’t even fucking think about it because I’m not done with you,” I snap. I don’t know what to make of his words. Does he want me to be some ruthless bastard who just uses him and fucks him and beats the shit out of him for doing the wrong thing—what I believe is the wrong thing?

“I’m thinking about it, because your words are more fucking tedious than getting accused of murder were,” Fox snaps back. “Can you make up your fucking mind about what the fuck you want? Because you’re a fucking dick for making me cry one second and then deciding you’re too fucking good for me the next.”

“Too good for you?” I demand, even more heatedly. “When did I ever fucking say I was too good for you?”

Exit 81.

I swerve onto the off ramp, but I’m so agitated, I’m barely paying attention to the fact that I have no idea where I’m going.

“‘I shouldn’t have done it! I was so wrooong to belt you! I don’t care if you go fuck an entire football team!’” Fox mimics dramatically. “In which case, I fucking will. So let me out. I’ll ask the local suburban moms where all the football players hang out.”

“Give me fucking directions,” I growl at him. “We’ll settle this when we get where we’re going, and if you think you can’t sit comfortably now, just fucking wait until I’m finished with you, boy.”

Because he is my boy.

Mine.

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