Buttons & Hate (Buttons 2)

She exchanged a few pleasantries with me in Italian, ignoring my date for a few minutes too long.

I quickly redirected the conversation to the food. In Italian, I ordered for both of us and handed the menus over.

She gave a false smile, hiding the hurt from my rejection.

When we were alone again, I watched Button across the table. A hint of irritation was in her eyes, but she hid most of her unease.

“She was just asking me about my vineyard.”

“I thought we didn’t lie to each other.” Her voice turned ice-cold, putting me right on the spot.

How did she know?

“I can understand a little bit of Italian. And she was coming on to you, assuming I was a stupid American who couldn’t figure out what you were saying. Are all Italians that disrespectful?”

The fire in her voice made my cock come to life in my trousers. Hearing her anger and possessiveness was a turn on—even though it should’ve irritated me. “I’m going home with you tonight. So let it go.”

“Still annoying...” She grabbed a piece of bread from the basket and tore off a few pieces before she popped them into her mouth.

I didn’t go out to dinner very often. The only time I did was when I was seeing someone or I had a meeting. While I loved the food, I preferred the meals Lars prepared—because there was no social interaction required.

“Do you date?” She looked down at her hands and pulled the bread apart.

“Right now?”

“No. Before me.”

I didn’t want to be asked these kinds of questions but I assumed it was part of the agreement. If she didn’t ask anything, there wouldn’t be much to talk about. I was fine with the silence but she wasn’t. “I have relationships...here and there.”

“So, you don’t beat them like you do with me?”

“No, I do.” That was the best part of the relationship. When they trusted me, they allowed me to do the darkest things to them. They came to adore it and wanted more.

“Have you ever been with a woman without resorting to that?”

“A few.” We would hook up a few times, but I was never satisfied. I needed violence to get off and satiate my appetite. “But they don’t last long.”

“Do you ever want to get married? Have children?”

“No.” The answer came out harsh, offended she asked the question at all. In my line of work, I couldn’t care for anyone. I couldn’t have a wife and a family. I would always be a target until the end of my days. If someone wanted to cross me, all they’d have to do is take someone I loved.

And I couldn’t lose anyone else.

Button understood she crossed a line with her question and backed off. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“Then don’t.”

“I was just curious. No ill intention.”

“Do you want to get married someday?”

“No.” She said just as quickly as I did.

That surprised me. Since she wanted to have a date, I assumed she still believed in romance. Maybe I was wrong. “May I ask why?”

“I don’t trust anyone. And I never will again.” She finished the slice of bread then picked up another.

I didn’t touch the basket. I wasn’t a big fan of bread.

“You shouldn’t let him ruin your future.” Not all men would have done something so sadistic. I was a criminal, a murderer, and a thief. But even I wouldn’t have done that. “You will find someone who truly cares for you.”

“Even so, my ability to trust is gone. It’ll never come back.”

“All things come back—in time.”

She shook her head. “When you’ve seen what I’ve seen, that’s not possible. I’ve seen how foul men really are. I’ve seen how their cocks control their every move. I’ve seen the real side to people—and men are all the same.”

I wanted to argue that point but I couldn’t. I was one of the most evil men I’d ever encountered. I may not have raped her but that didn’t make me a good person. I was still accepting a bribe to get her to open her legs. I wasn’t any better. “I’m sorry this experience has made you lose your faith.”

“It hasn’t. It’s only opened my eyes.”

The waitress returned with our meals and placed them between us. She only had eyes for me and ignored Button, probably assuming she was a colleague or client, not my sex slave.

Button stared at her hard, silently threatening her.

She poured the wine then disappeared—thankfully.

When she was gone, Button’s sour mood faded.

“You’re the jealous type?”

“I’m not jealous.” She cut into her lasagna. “I don’t like it when people write me off as insignificant.”

“She probably thinks you’re a client.”

“Well, I’m not.” She took a few bites, still tense.

She never wanted to get married and she didn’t trust anyone, but yet, she was jealous. It didn’t add up. But then again, if I saw a man go anywhere near her I’d stab a knife through his chest. It had nothing to do with love. It was all about possession. “Now she’ll know.” I slid my hand across the table and grabbed hers. I interlocked our fingers together and continued eating.