Page 16
Story: Bad Girl Dilemma
“No, there’s not. Thirty days means little if I don’t know what this is about. I want details. Timing. Target. Access points.”
He hands me a second cup, like this is just a normal Tuesday morning and not the aftermath of high-stakes seduction warfare.
I don’t take it.
He sets it down on the counter between us anyway. “Drink. You’ll need the caffeine.”
“Stop pretending this is normal.”
“Why not?” His gaze lifts to mine—calm, unreadable. “You’ve fantasized about this. Shall I recite your naughty little cravings?”
My breath catches.
He leans closer. Not touching. Just close enough to crowd me.
“You play the rebel well, little thief. But you want structure. Boundaries. A leash.” His voice lowers, velvety and dangerous. “And you want me to hold it.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper.
He smiles. Smug and patient. “You will.”
I spin away, hands shaking, furious at myself for how hot my skin feels.
“How many others?” I demand. “How many women have you done this to? Clearly if you used The Club app then you’re on there too.” What the hell is that sensation in my diaphragm? Because it sure as fuck isn’t jealousy!
His pause is deliberate. The glimmer in his eyes, searing. “None like you.”
The words hit harder than they should. I shouldn’t care.
But Ido.
Because I don’t know what game he’s playing anymore—and worse, I don’t know if I’m still playing too.
Dante
She thinksshe still has a chance of getting out of this.
The way she stood this morning—bare feet braced like she was ready to launch herself at me, eyes full of fire and teeth bared beneath a thin sheen of control—she was magnificent. Terrified. Gorgeous.
And still foolish enough to think this is a game she can win.
That robe she wore? Mine. That espresso she wouldn’t take? Mine. The building? The city view? Theair?
All. Mine.
But the delicious part is that she hasn’t realized yet: I’m not her captor.
I’m hermirror. I will dominate. She will submit.
And I’ve already won. Not because I broke her. Because I’m going to teach her how to want to be broken.
That’s the difference.
God, she’s sexy when she fights. When she tries to negotiate with a blade tucked behind her words, like she hasn’t already handed me every weapon I need.
She doesn’t know it yet, but the real heist started the moment she created that Club profile. That soft confession buried under bravado.
Looking for something real.
He hands me a second cup, like this is just a normal Tuesday morning and not the aftermath of high-stakes seduction warfare.
I don’t take it.
He sets it down on the counter between us anyway. “Drink. You’ll need the caffeine.”
“Stop pretending this is normal.”
“Why not?” His gaze lifts to mine—calm, unreadable. “You’ve fantasized about this. Shall I recite your naughty little cravings?”
My breath catches.
He leans closer. Not touching. Just close enough to crowd me.
“You play the rebel well, little thief. But you want structure. Boundaries. A leash.” His voice lowers, velvety and dangerous. “And you want me to hold it.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper.
He smiles. Smug and patient. “You will.”
I spin away, hands shaking, furious at myself for how hot my skin feels.
“How many others?” I demand. “How many women have you done this to? Clearly if you used The Club app then you’re on there too.” What the hell is that sensation in my diaphragm? Because it sure as fuck isn’t jealousy!
His pause is deliberate. The glimmer in his eyes, searing. “None like you.”
The words hit harder than they should. I shouldn’t care.
But Ido.
Because I don’t know what game he’s playing anymore—and worse, I don’t know if I’m still playing too.
Dante
She thinksshe still has a chance of getting out of this.
The way she stood this morning—bare feet braced like she was ready to launch herself at me, eyes full of fire and teeth bared beneath a thin sheen of control—she was magnificent. Terrified. Gorgeous.
And still foolish enough to think this is a game she can win.
That robe she wore? Mine. That espresso she wouldn’t take? Mine. The building? The city view? Theair?
All. Mine.
But the delicious part is that she hasn’t realized yet: I’m not her captor.
I’m hermirror. I will dominate. She will submit.
And I’ve already won. Not because I broke her. Because I’m going to teach her how to want to be broken.
That’s the difference.
God, she’s sexy when she fights. When she tries to negotiate with a blade tucked behind her words, like she hasn’t already handed me every weapon I need.
She doesn’t know it yet, but the real heist started the moment she created that Club profile. That soft confession buried under bravado.
Looking for something real.
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