Page 31 of Covert Desires

It takes what little energy I have to channel my most non-threatening side, acting so docile it makes me want to puke. But I know it’s the only way. If I want any chance of being cut loose, Kiah will have to trust me first.

“Where am I?” I ask in a raspy voice, looking at her with innocent eyes like I’m a little boy instead of a monster.

“Nico.” She smiles but quickly wipes it from her face again, locking a neutral expression in place.

This bitch is good. What is her story? Innkeepers are not supposed to know skills like sewing people up or overpowering crime lords. Her moves were calculated as much as they were desperate.

“You tried to kill me,” I say in an accusatory tone, hoping to pull on some guilt strings.

“You weren’t exactly an exemplary house guest,” she replies simply, putting down the washcloth, her hardened face unchanged.

“I’m sorry.” I hate those words. “Never apologize.” But I know that’s what she wants to hear. People always want you to beg, to grovel. It makes them feel powerful.

Kiah doesn’t reply, just gets up and heads to the kitchen to stir some shit on the stove—lunch, I presume.

I have to be careful; I can’t rush this.

If I move too soon, I’ll blow my chance.

Patience, Domenico.

***

The next day, Kiah brings me solid food. A fucking relief after all those damn soups. I never thought I’d be so happy for a simple toasted cheese sandwich. She even buttered the corners, how thorough.

I say nothing other than “thank you,” watching her intently as she heads out, leaving me alone in the cabin.

She’s been going out more and more.

Judging from the slow, bustling outside that’s increasingly festive, my guess is that the tourists are finally returning to the island.

There should be flights out of here by now.

That’s good.

I just need to figure out how to fucking get to them. That and where she’s hidden my duffel bag with the money. I don’t exactly have a gun anymore to force a pilot to take me, but I doubt anyone would argue with that amount of cash. It has to be here somewhere…

“Where are you going?” I ask on the third day after mymiraculous recovery.

“I need to get ready for the guests,” Kiah says simply like I know what day it is, what month even.

It must be November by now. But who can be sure?

“Do you need help?” I ask like I give a fuck.

She scoffs, pausing with her hand on the open door. “From you? No thanks. You don’t look like the helping kind.”

“I think we got off on the wrong foot.” I put all my effort into giving her an uncharacteristic toothy smile, one packed with all my sweetest charm.

“Oh? You don’t normally violate people’s personal boundaries in the most fucked up way?” Her voice is dripping with poison; it reaches all the way to her fiery eyes.

“Normally, no,” I lie. She wouldn’t be able to handle what my life was likenormally.I bet Miss Kiah had a nice cushy upbringing, retiring early to this lovely slice of paradise. What could she possibly know about the darkness of my world?

The first time I broke a man's fingers, I was fourteen. Father said it would make me a man. All it did was make me numb. And that was just the beginning…

“I don’t trust you,” she says simply but remains in the doorway.

The innkeeper trails her gaze over my bound naked body, and my dick instantly jumps to attention—well, as far as he has to grow in this stupid cage. He likes the way she looks at him.

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