I slammed the door to the office and walked in. A white terrycloth robe, far too small for Cristiano, had been discarded on the couch. “So every other man should see me as nothing, but you can enjoy your whores whenever you feel like it?”
Cristiano’s eyebrows dropped, disturbing his normally unreadable expression. Confusion played over his face like film slides. “I see. Earlier she was a victim, now she’s a whore? What changed?”
“What are you talking about?”
“That was Sandra,” he said, shuffling some papers to one side of his desk. “The bait from earlier.”
I glanced from the robe to his bare, muscled arms. “You’re sleeping with her?”
He scoffed. “God, no. She showered, and I changed shirts because we were both wearing another man’s blood. Well, several men’s.”
“What was she doing in here then?”
“What are you doing in here?”
I didn’t answer, because I wasn’t even sure I knew. He had tattooed me and sent me away—and didn’t seem to hold any remorse over the extreme punishment. I wondered if he’d every truly thought I’d beg. And then, let him spank me—even if he suspected I wanted it.
I’d thought, maybe foolishly, I could turn Cristiano against himself. That I could gain a measure of control and freedom—not by escaping, running, or petulance, but by luring out his demons so he could no longer hide from them.
If I was enticing enough, could I undermine his work, his willpower, and his self-control, and finally get him to cross the line?
He ran a fingertip along the rim of his glass. “Sandra was here to discuss a top-secret project,” he conceded when I didn’t answer.
A large ice cube melted in another glass on his desk. “Have you cheated on me?”
“Is it cheating if you don’t care?” he asked. “Although it seems you might at the moment.”
“It makes me look stupid.”
“To whom? As I said, my men see nothing, say nothing, think nothing about you.” He set down his tumbler. “You shouldn’t be down here. I sent you upstairs for your own good.”
“Why? What will you do? Call Scratch back?” As if given life by my acknowledgment, my exposed mariposa tingled. “Go ahead. Mark me once and you might as well mark me everywhere.”
“I intend to, just not with ink.”
“Another baseless threat.”
“Baseless?” He whipped his undershirt over his head, every muscle in his arms and torso flexing as he pulled it off. “Careful, Natalia, sweetheart. You tempt me.”
I bit down on my lip at the embodiment of his power, surprised that my first thought was how elegant and sensual such profound and brute strength could be. My strength didn’t lie in my muscles, but I wanted to prove that it didn’t make me any less powerful. I stepped toward the desk. “But you’re a master of resistance.”
“Not tonight.” He balled up his shirt and tossed it on the couch with the robe. “I haven’t had so many sleepless nights in a row since I was on the street. My willpower isn’t as strong as it has been.”
“That explains the girl.”
“All it explains is why I sent you away.” He heaved a sigh and his eyes drifted to the paperwork and laptop in front of him. “Believe me, I wish your accusation were true,” he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “To care so little that I could be buried in someone else’s pussy right now.”
I clenched my teeth, stemming jealousy at the thought—and then satisfaction that he’d resisted something he clearly wanted . . . for me.
“Especially when you stand there looking like you came here to fuck.” His expression turned pained. “I need it, Natalia.”
An answering ache between my legs caught me off guard. It was becoming clear that each time he voiced a need, my body’s primal response was to question how I could fill it.
I couldn’t imagine him asking anyone for what he needed. As he’d said before—he took what he wanted. He didn’t ask. So what stopped him now?
I took another step forward, and he moved back.
This was where my power lay. Tonight, his weakness was on display. Perhaps because he’d thought I’d gone to bed and had naïvely let down his guard. I forced words from my mouth before I could chicken out. “What do you need?”
“You’re the one who came to me,” he said. “So I ask you again—why are you here?”
“It’s hard to change the tattoo bandage when I can’t see it that well.” A small fib. I raised my chin as I delivered a jab just to irritate him. “Although, if it gets infected, maybe they’ll remove it for me.”
“Anyone else in my position would have killed you in a heartbeat for putting his livelihood and team in jeopardy—I shouldn’t need to remind you of that.”
“I shouldn’t need to remind you that kidnapping me didn’t make my loyalty automatic.”