Page 19 of Trapped

“I won’t.”

He shrugged. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Why was he so generous to a woman he used for sex? Sure, he was getting what he wanted—my body, my compliance—but there had to be more to it. No man handed over this kind of luxury without expecting something bigger in return. He could’ve just given me a cheap apartment, tossed a couple of bills my way, and still had the control he wanted. But this… this felt like more than an arrangement. It felt calculated.

Maybe he enjoyed making me feel indebted to him, keeping me on edge, wondering when the price would be paid. Or maybe he liked the idea of me depending on him for everything.

“What’s the real reason?” I asked.

“For what?”

“For all of this.”

His smile flipped my stomach. “What makes you think I need a reason beyond what I’ve already told you?”

“Because men like you don’t doanythingwithout a reason. You could’ve given me a lot less. Hell, you could’ve skipped renting an apartment.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing my waist. “I like taking care of what’s mine.”

Heat crept up my neck. He said that like he meant it, which was crazy, but here I stood in an expensive apartment that he’d paid for. He liked paying my bills?

I could work with that.

I could even come outon top. If he liked me enough, maybe the gravy train would last for a while. I’d pretend to be perfect, keep him hooked, and hide my glaring flaws. Staying with him was in my best interests, but it’d require a delicate balancing act. Ineverwanted another serious relationship again.

I plastered on a smile, letting my fingers trail his chest. “Well, I guess I’d better be a good girl.”

Santino leaned in closer, his breath warm and teasing as it brushed my lips. He kissed me, and I swept my tongue across his lip. He tasted clean and sharp, like citrus. I cradled his face in my hands, pulling him closer to me, and he groaned. He seemed to like that, so I gripped the back of his neck and fisted his hair.

The kiss turned feral. Santino pushed me against the wall, hands on my waist. His growl vibrated into my fingers.

Santino broke the kiss, panting. “You’re going to make me miss every appointment this week.”

I smiled, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “We could stop.”

“Fuck that.”

He crushed his mouth against mine. His hand slipped under my dress, palming my ass. Gathering my panties in his fist, he ripped them off. His eyes darkened when he felt how wet I was. His touch disappeared, and then he lifted me into his arms. He carried me into a dark room, tossing me onto a king-sized bed.

This arrangement would work out better than I thought. Everything was falling into place. With him, I could rebuild my life on my terms. I could handle him. If I played the part, I’d be the one in control. As long as he never noticed how much I drank.

SEVEN

SANTINO

TWO MONTHS LATER

I wished Delilah were here.

Spending time with Delilah was more fun than holding court in Afterlife. My bodyguard waved a line of peasants forward, and a man stepped in front of me, clutching a Red Sox baseball hat.

“Good evening, Mr. Costa.”

I nodded. “Who are you?”

“Greg, sir. Greg Cafaro.” His voice was so low, I leaned closer to hear him. “I appreciate the opportunity to meet you.”

“What do you need?”

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