Page 46 of Destroyer

“Yes, I have his address.”

Chapter thirty

Nico

Caeowasveryseriouswhen he said to stay in the chair, but I really want to leave.

I won't leave the room, I won't leave the house, I won't open the door or set anything on fire; but I really want to lie on my belly to colour.

He wouldn't mind that would he?

I could unclip the metal between my ankles but it's much more fun to struggle. I've always been fascinated watching bound prisoners, and a little envious of them. Not the fact they would be tortured and murdered, but to be free of control, and completely at someone else's mercy. It always got my dick hard, even when I was just a kid. Back before I knew what masturbating was, I knew wiggling my hips on the floor felt good.

Once I'm on the floor with my colouring book, I lose all interest in the picture. I only do this to improve my pen control. I'd rather rest my feet on my butt and rock my hips, with the soothing sucking action in my mouth. Imagining lying here with Caeo cooking in the kitchen. He’d talk to me, telling me what a good boy I am. He could lock my hands behind my back and prepare a meal to force feed me. Then I could suck his cock and he could fuck me all night.

When my phone rings, I practically jump out of my skin.Bad timing CaeoI scold him but secretly I like the fact he is checking up on me.

“Hello.” I try not to sound too out of breath when I answer, he'd be annoyed to think I've been running around.

“Are you OK boy? You sound out of breath.” The voice is speaking Romanian, sending a cold chill down my spine.

“I am exercising.” Exercising my willie, so it's not a lie. “Who is this?”

“My boy, it is so good to speak to you. My name is Andrei Balen, I am your grandfather.”

“Why are you calling me?” I'm talking to him in Romanian, but other than that, my mind goes completely blank.

“It is so good to hear you haven't forgotten your native tongue.”

“I haven't forgotten.” For ninety percent of my time, I lived alone, muttering to myself in my birth language to kill the unending silence of cold wet nights.

“Christian tells me you are eighteen now.”

“I am not sure how he would know that but yes, that is correct.”

“It's about time we brought you into the family. I have the perfect job for you.”

“No, sir.” My words splutter from my mouth. Having a conversation in Romanian makes this feel a little surreal. “I am happy here.”

“Of course you are. And that is where I need you.”

“I don't need a job.”

“I have wired twenty-five million into your account. My deal with Edward Fayer needs renegotiating, and Carter Turnbridge is overdue for a review.”

“I… please… slow down.” I'm over the moon that he struggles with Thayer as much as me, but there was far too much information in those few words. “Twenty-five million what?”

“Pounds, you buffoon,” he huffs.

“I don't know what value Romanian currency has against the English pound.”

“Ah, good point. I apologise.”

“You have a deal with Edward Fayer? I can't negotiate with him.”

“No. You won't have to. I pay people to work on the deals for me. You will be in charge of Romanian dealings in England. Both Edward and Carter will turn to you. I know you are young; I will send a team to deal with all of this for you.”

“Then why have me?”

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