Page 40 of A Taste like Sin
my wrist and capture mine with a knowledge I will never get over. “When it matters,” he insists,
tightening his grip. “When a brief moment of control can tip the scales in favor of someone who needs
that security. I can cede it, even despite my…preferences.”
“Oh.” My heart races, throat thickens. He’s too close. His voice is too damn deep. Too earnest.
“However,” he warns. “This will not work if you do not trust me.”
“I-I can. I mean…I do.”
“Good.” He turns, guiding me to the door. “Then let us beginpor favor.”
Unsurprisingly, Julio is waiting in the hall to lead the way to the lower level. Given his appearance, I
assume our destination is outside to a waiting car. Instead, we turn down a different hallway that
leads deeper into the building. Eventually, we enter an elegant dining room, so out of place that it
could have been conjured from thin air. Dark walls and wooden floors create an ebony backdrop for
the round table draped in a pure white tablecloth, adorned with golden utensils.
In a way, it’s a more terrifying battlefield than lying naked in front of a horde of strangers.
“Dinner?” I say thickly. “An interesting lesson, Mr. Villa.”
“Patience,” he replies, his upper lip quirked. With his free hand, he finds the back of one of the two
chairs at the table and angles it toward me. “Yet another step that must be taken.”
“And then?” I ask as I sit and watch him navigate his way to the chair opposite me. “Tell me: Is food
the gateway drug to control?”
“No,” he admits once seated. “Butknowledgeis. And to ensure your safety and comfort during our…
arrangement, I need to know as much about you as you are willing to share.”
“Oh?” I jut my chin haughtily into the air. “I thought there wasn’t anything about me worth learning?”
His stern frown stubbornly remains. He wasn’t joking. “I can admit when I have miscalculated. In
your case, perhaps I have—enough to realize that, with you, I may have to adjust my own boundaries.
So allow me to rectify that. I need to know your limits. What you are comfortable with. What you will
not allow. And…” He pauses and an uneasy realization worms into my mind. He’s hesitating.
“And what?”
“I need to know if you have any lingering trauma that may make our arrangement…unpleasant for
you.”
Ah, as polite a way of beating around the bush as I’ve heard.
“If you’re asking if I was sexually assaulted, I wasn’t,” I say softly. “As far as monsters go, Simon
