Page 99 of The Devil's Thorn
“That he had a chance.”
“And you let him,” he murmurs, tilting his head. “Long enough to get what you wanted.”
I circle slowly behind his desk, fingers drifting across the polished edge like I own it. I don’t rush. I want him to watch me claim the space.
And he does. His eyes follow every step.
“I thought you’d be angrier,” I say softly.
“Why would I be angry?”
“You saw me seduce a man who might’ve traded your name for a glass of whiskey.”
“But he didn’t.”
I glance back at him over my shoulder. “So youdotrust me.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t stop me either.”
“Because I wanted to see what you’d do.”
I stop walking. Turn and sit slowly—on the edge ofhisdesk. Cross my legs just enough for the slit in my dress to shift, the dagger still pressed beneath it like a secret we both pretend not to see.
He leans against the arm of the leather chair, his posture deceptively casual. But his eyes? Razor-sharp.
“You like games,” I murmur. “But only when you control the board.”
“That’s not true.”
“No?”
“I don’t mind losing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You wouldn’t,” he says, voice dark. “Because you don’t lose either.”
The silence stretches. But it’s not empty. It’sthick.Woven with implication.
We’re circling again. Two flames pressing closer—daring the other to burn first.
“What do you want from me, Rafael?” I ask, finally. “Really.”
His eyes narrow. “Truth.”
I laugh under my breath. “You wouldn’t recognize it.”
“Would you?”
“I live by it.”
“You live bysomething,” he says. “But I don’t think it’s truth.”
We stare at each other. His knuckles brush the edge of the desk beside my thigh. Not touching. Just close enough to feel the heat between our skin.
“You did well tonight,” he says eventually.
