What?I frown.“Should I be?”
In response, he tilts his head and lifts a brow.
Oh, I get it…
This ishisempire.Not Lorenzo’s.Not Gio’s.At the end of the day,hehas the final say.Nothing happens without his permission.Including my confinement.
We shared a steamy weekend, so he thought I’d be pissed that he allowed me to be locked up, even though he’s my alibi.Is that why it took him so long to come to me?Is that why he came in all cold and closed off?Was he prepared for a fight?
“One of the most attractive things about you, Stefano, is that you’re not a slave to your emotions.That’ssodamn sexy to me,” I tell him.“Sure, I was with you that weekend, but I also made some questionably suspicious moves during an attack on your villa.Your empire’s under fire.Your men died.There are signs of traitors.This isnotthe time for ‘feelings.’No matter what we shared, confinement is where I belong while answers are being searched for.It was the right call.So no, I’m not mad.What Iam, isstarving.”
For a long moment, he just stares down at me, searching my eyes for something only he understands.Then, his shoulders drop, as though they’ve been holding up the weight of a week’s worth of tension.
Did he truly think I’d be mad at him?
He leans down, cups my face, and asks with a quiet, almost reverent earnestness, “Whoare you?”
I lean into his touch.“Don’t make me lie to you, Stefano.”
Something shifts in his eyes, seemingly surprised that I’ve given him something that’s also nothing at all.He holds my gaze, and the silence swells thick between us.
“Are you here to harm,” he eventually asks, voice low, “or to help?”
“That’s for you to figure out.”
His jaw tenses, then works back and forth, as he studies me a moment longer…
Until, finally, he nods and sits back.Accepting.
With an almost imperceptible furrow between his brows, he picks up the fork, lifts a piece of bread pudding, and feeds it to me.
A moan flows out of me as the sweet, buttery warmth floods my taste buds.
Heaven.Mercy.
“More,” I beg after swallowing.When he just stares at me, I add, “Please?”
He feeds me another bite.
“We fortified the southeast wall,” he updates me, unnecessarily.“Put up a security station out there.”
“Oh, nice.It only took a hired attack, several dead, and multiple injured to get it done...”I lick my lips.“More, please.”
He obliges.“How did you get that mercenary to break?”
I chew, swallow.“Some people tattoo themselves to look tough or cool.But for some, their ink’s a map to the soul.I used his map to find the X that broke him.”
This time, I don’t have to ask, he feeds me more.
It’s so damn good I do a little shoulder jig, which earns a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“You should get more professionally trained men in your camp,” I tell him.“Psychologically, I mean.Right now, they’re just big, strong men with guns.In a war, that only gets you so far.You need brain power, too.”
“And I bet you have a suggestion,” he replies wryly.
“Pick a dozen of your most loyal guys and send them to get advanced training, tactical and psychological,” I offer.“My dad used to mention a place called Red Cage, a commando training camp out in Colorado.You could check it out.”
He regards me with slightly narrowed eyes, but his suspicion is not unwarranted.Red Cage is owned by his relatives.
