Page 17 of Trapped By the Cartel

I chuckled, finding a perverse pleasure in his continued resistance. "Patience is a virtue, little omega. You'll learn that soon enough." I gestured to the chair opposite me. "Please, sit. Let's not stand around like awkward teenagers on a first date."

He hesitated for a moment before reluctantly taking a seat, carefully positioning himself as far away from me as possible. However, it still wasn't going to work.

"So," I began, picking up a fork and examining it with exaggerated interest. "Tell me about yourself. What did you do before stumbling into my little world?"

His eyes flickered up to mine, a hint of suspicion in their depths. He was wondering where I was going to take this conversation.

"It's not really something I like to talk about," he said defensively, averting his gaze.

"Oh?" I raised an eyebrow, feigning disappointment. "I thought we were going to get acquainted."

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, avoiding my gaze once again. "It was… complicated."

"Aren't most things?" I countered, spearing a piece of roasted asparagus and popping it into my mouth. "Tell me about your family, Elliot."

That seemed to be the wrong question. He visibly stiffened, his jaw clenching. Plus, he was most likely thinking that I already knew everything about that.

"My family is… not relevant," he said curtly.

"Everything is relevant," I insisted, my eyes locking with his. "Especially your past."

I could see the conflict raging within him, the desire to reveal, the fear of exposure. It was fascinating to witness, and it fueled my own desire for control.

"Let's just say," he began slowly, "they wanted something different for me than what I wanted for myself."

"A common story," I agreed with a knowing smirk. "Many people feel stifled by their families' expectations. What exactly did they want you to be?"

He hesitated again, chewing on his lip as if struggling with the decision to confide in me. Finally, he let out a sigh.

"They wanted me to be… scholarly," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To dedicate my life to preserving ancient knowledge."

"And you didn't want that?" I pressed.

"It was… suffocating," he admitted, a hint of bitterness creeping into his tone. "All those dusty books, all those forgotten languages. It felt like I was trapped in a gilded cage."

I had felt like that sometimes before, so I could relate.

"So, you escaped," I concluded.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the tablecloth. "I wanted to experience life. To see the world. To be… free."

And now he was, with me, and he was freer than he had ever been.

"And what have you found?" I asked, smirking.

He looked up at me, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "Chaos," he said bluntly. "Nothing but chaos."

I chuckled, finding his assessment rather amusing. "Perhaps you just haven't found the right kind of order yet." My gaze drifted down to my waist, noticing my erection. "Maybe you just need someone to show you the way."

His cheeks flushed, and he quickly averted his eyes. But I could see the flicker of desire in them, the acknowledgment that my words had hit their mark.

I leaned forward, closer this time, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Tell me, Elliot," I murmured, "what do you truly crave?"

The absurdity of the question hung in the air. Elliot's face contorted into a mask of disbelief, his hazel eyes widening as he stared at me. The flush that had begun creeping up his neck intensified, staining his cheeks a vibrant pink. His reaction was priceless.

"That's… that's a ridiculous question," he finally sputtered, shaking his head slightly. "What kind of answer are you expecting? I'm literally sitting across from a man who runs a criminal organization! My craving is to escape, to find a way out of this insane situation."

A way away from me? I thought amusedly.

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