Page 48 of Cruel Secrets

That dark gleam enters his eyes. “You want to try saying that again?”

My hand slips into my pocket and I pull out a small knife, flicking it open and bringing the edge to the soft spot just beneath his jaw before he has the chance to react.

His gaze hardens. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Since you don’t want to listen to me while I’m trying to be civil, this is how we’re going to handle things from now on.” I press the blade deeper against his throat, digging it in until a couple drops of blood show.

He hisses but doesn’t pull back, his gaze still locked on mine. “Drop it.”

“I could slit your throat right now and it would be easy. Wouldn’t think twice about it.”

Royce’s hand skates across my hip, his fingers sinking into my body so hard I’m sure there are going to be bruises in the morning. “You’re not the kind, Gia.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me if you think that.” My hand is steady as I drag the blade along his jaw, not cutting deep enough to seriously hurt him, but extending the shallow cut.

The second I reach the halfway point, his hand drops from my body. “What do you want?”

“Willing to negotiate now?” I move the tip of the blade to hover over his jugular. “I want to be able to make money. Let me do something other than sit around.”

“Take the knife away from my throat and maybe I’ll think about it.” That cocky little smirk is back on his face as I drop the knife and take a step back.

He scowls at me as he enters the kitchen and rounds the counter, pulling some chorizo out of the fridge and dropping it on the counter. “I can provide for you just fine. You’re being held hostage. You’re not working.”

“I have my paints. Just let me talk to Kat. She can get me pictures from the museum, and I can work on a couple different ones while I’m here. It would be good to get ahead.”

Royce grabs a white onion and a knife, putting both on the cutting board and getting to work chopping it into small pieces. “You can paint all you want, but I’m not going to help you sell forgeries.”

“Why not? You could stand to make some good money from it.” I grab some paper towels and clean off my knife before folding it and tucking it back into my pocket.

He stops what he’s doing and storms over to me, pulling the knife from my pocket and tossing it up on top of the cabinets where I can’t reach. He looks pleased with himself as he turns back to the dinner prep. “I have more money than I could need for the rest of my life coming through several legitimate businesses. Even more through the illegal ones.”

I get out a frying pan and splash some avocado oil into it. “I knowyouhave money, but I need more. I need to feel like I’m doing something here, not just waiting around to either die or have to figure out the rest of my future.”

He spins and takes me by the chin, forcing me to look at him. “I’m not going to let you or Bianca die.”

Sparks fly at the possessive touch, even as I pull away from him. “I don’t think you have the power to control that.”

How the hell are we arguing about this again?

“I do.”

He says the words with such a surety that I want to believe him. More than anything I want to believe that the man in front of me has the power to move heaven and hell to keep me safe, but I know that he can’t.

Noah is an animal. He won’t let go of this and he won’t let me out of his control.

“At least let me talk to Kat or Zoe,” I say, changing the subject and turning my attention to frying the meat with some crushed garlic from the fridge. “Please.”

Royce huffs. “You can’t. You have to know that. I have a single secured phone here, and we can’t risk you putting in a call to anyone on the outside.”

“You get to talk to people on the outside.”

His jaw clenches as he gets to work slicing bell peppers. “I get one call once a week to tell me how things are going.”

“That’s still more than I get. I feel like I’m dying, Royce.”

“Good to know spending time with me is so much fun for you,” he says, sarcasm dripping from his words as he dumps the vegetables into the frying pan. “I don’t like this any more than you do, Gia, but this is the hand we’ve been dealt.”

“What did your brother say when you were talking to him the other day? I saw you. It didn’t look like you liked the tone of the conversation.”

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