10. Antonio

Iallowed Daniela to weaken me.

Did I just punish her for it? Was that what it was? No. I take full responsibility for my weaknesses.

The better question is, What am I going to do about it? But that’s a problem to be tackled later. Right now, my plate’s full.

In the meantime, I’m doing what I do best—distracting her. I’m taking away some of her self-determination. Forcing her to surrender some of her control to me. Do I crave her submission? Yes. Does she crave the opportunity to submit? Also, yes.

How are my demands, amped up with threats, different than what my father did, or Tomas? Was I coercive? It certainly sounded like it, even to my ears. But my conscience is clear.

Daniela has a safeword. It’s what separates her dark prince from the devil he could easily become. Even though she seemed hesitant, even though the uncertainty was scrawled all over her gorgeous face, my princesa never used it today.

Red.That’s all she had to say to change course. Is it fucked up? Maybe. But it’s our favorite flavor of fucked up.

Although, I’ll admit, today was different. The trust seemed frayed at the edges—on both sides. I felt it then, and I still feel it now.

It’s been a bastard of a day, and I overreacted to her prying. No question. But letting her creep into my world—into my business, with all its dark elements—only buys her more trouble. More anxiety. More worry. It’s my burden, not hers. I won’t allow it to weigh her down. Not while I’m still breathing.

But it’s never easy with her. Every battle is hard fought, and I’m forced to earn almost every concession. We’re both often bloodied before it’s over.

Will she be uncomfortable from edging? So uncomfortable my cock is thickening at the thought of it. But nobody ever died because they didn’t have an orgasm.

I take out my phone and toss it in the air a few times before I contact Fedorov. If there’s a better solution, I don’t see it.

The bitterness seeps in as I key in the message. But I’m not completely boxed in. He’ll eat on my terms.

Dinner is on. I’ll get back to you about the time and place. Cristiano is out of there today.

The phone rings seconds after I send the message.

“Huntsman,” I answer, coolly.

“I’m not a big fan of texting.” Fedorov tsks. “Too much typing.”

Fuck you, asshole.

“Cristiano is currently in one of the guest houses on my property. I expected you to make a sound decision, and I took the liberty of having him brought here after we last spoke. I offered him medical treatment, as a precaution, but he refused. He’ll be treated as a guest, so long as you uphold your end of the deal. He’s all yours after our dinner. I’ll await the details.”

The old bastard ends the call before I can get in a word.

Medical treatment, as a precaution. What the fuck does that mean? Does Cristiano have a hangnail, or does the precaution have something to do with Fedorov’s knowledge of old KGB tactics?

I fully expect my soldier to be returned to me in good health, I text. Anything less will be treated as a punishable violation of the agreement.

Duly noted, he replies.

Fedorov is a man of contradiction. Despite the I’m an old man bullshit he’s always peddling, he’s ruthless. Yet, he grabbed Cristiano before anyone had the opportunity to kill him.

Does he want to have dinner with Daniela so badly that he wasn’t willing to take a chance with Cristiano’s life? I’m sure getting him out of Nikitin’s clutches took some doing. The oligarchs trust the Bratva as little as the Bratva trusts them. There’s no love lost between the factions.

Something’s not right.There’s got to be more to it than a goddamn dinner. Now I’m even more concerned for Daniela’s safety. Sonofabitch.

A knock on the door drags me from my horrific imaginings.

“Hey,” Lucas mutters. “Anyone else here?”

“No.”

“Alvarez is dead.”

So much for interrogating him. Nothing has gone according to plan today. Not a fucking thing. “How?”

“A well-placed bullet to the back of the head. No signs of struggle. Looks like someone he trusted enough to turn his back on.”

“Someone who didn’t want him to talk.”

“Probably on Nikitin’s order.”

“No assumptions. For all we know, Fedorov’s behind it.” Or someone else we haven’t yet identified. “That end was easier than the bastard deserved.”

Lucas grunts.

“Where did they find him?”

“In a boarded-up building near the train station. They’re sweeping the place for evidence. What do you want them to do with the body?”

“Leave it for the rats.”

Lucas sticks his hands in his pockets. “Have you made a decision about dinner?”

I nod. “I just got off the phone with Fedorov. He has Cristiano. He’s holding him as a guest until after the dinner tomorrow.”

“What kind of condition is he in?” His expression tightens as he awaits my reply.

“I can’t say for certain, but it didn’t sound grim.”

The muscles in Lucas’s neck relax, much the same way mine did when I heard that Fedorov had Cristiano. It’s not a perfect situation, but it’s better.

“Wait,” Lucas says. “He rescued him before you agreed to dinner?”

“There’s something that doesn’t feel right. But I can’t put my finger on it.”

“We have a little time to figure it out. Where’s the dinner?”

“Here.”

“Here? He agreed to that?”

“He will. Close the restaurant to the public—all day, so we can prepare. There’s a separate entrance, so he won’t have free access to the building. We’ll need to allow a couple of his guards into the atrium, but the rest will have to wait outside. It gives us more control than we would have elsewhere.”

“It’s a solid plan. Although he’s likely to be seen entering or leaving the restaurant.”

Fraternizing with the Bratva isn’t a great look for me, but most people who know me, know I’d never sell out the region to fill my coffers. I’m not Tomas.

“I can have dinner with whomever I want. What’s going on with our computer equipment?”

“Fifteen minutes. They’re working as quickly as they can. I could probably push them harder, but we can’t afford mistakes.”

No, we can’t, but we’re left holding our dicks while the equipment is being checked. We need it to examine the feeds from the pier if we expect to ever figure out who put that bomb on the boat. “Fifteen minutes. That’s it.”

“Rafael asked about you. He also wanted to know if I thought Tomas’s disappearance was in any way connected to the explosion on the boat.”

Fuck.I’ve been dragging my feet on this. He needs to be told. I rub my palm along my jaw. “What did you say?”

“I told him it was too early to draw any conclusions. He knows Tomas is dead, Antonio. I could sense it.”

I waited too damn long to tell him. Now he’s holding it inside, letting it churn, until it gnaws a hole in his gut. Goddammit. “Is he still in the clinic?”

“I didn’t give the okay for him to leave—so unless you did, he should be here. Although the kid’s resourceful.”

“Find him, and tell him to come see me.”

Lucas has a hand on the door when I stop him. “When Cristiano arrives tomorrow, he’ll be treated as any other man being returned to us. He’ll need to be questioned, and he’ll be treated as a threat until we know otherwise.” I never thought I’d ever say those words. Ever.

“I don’t believe he’s been compromised. He’d take a bullet for you. Probably for me, too.” Lucas swallows. “But I’ll question him.”

“No. I’ll do it. But I want you with me.”