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All the man does is lift a single brow in my direction and say, “Really?” He picks up the tender and sets it on the table cloth near his plate, never breaking eye contact with me and still giving me that lifted eyebrow.
“Yes, really. You talk a lot for a mafia boss. Aren’t you guys supposed to be stoic or something? You’re a chatty fucking Kathy.”
“All I’m doing, love, is getting to know you.”
“No, you were making fun of me.”
“I was not.” That eyebrow of his finally lowers in line with its twin as he says, “Teasing is not the same as making fun of someone, just so we’re clear. And, for your information, stoic mafia bosses are a terribly wrong stereotype. You should know we love hearing ourselves talk.”
I roll my eyes. “Clearly.”
I resist any other urges I have of throwing more food his way and finish the majority of what remains on my plate. Fifteen minutes later, our dessert is chocolate lava cake, and I’m not going to lie, my mouth waters when the waiter brings it over.
It looks fucking delicious.
Okay, as much as I don’t want to admit it, Silus chose well. The appetizer, my meal, even the dessert; I can’t complain about any of it. That said, I’m not going to tell him that. If he thinks he’s going to get praise from me for any of this, he’s dead wrong.
The dessert comes with two forks and a single plate, meaning we both have to lean toward the center of the table to get some of it. Silus doesn’t go for it straight away. Once he picks up his fork, he watches me with a twinkle in his dark eyes.
I don’t care. I stuff my face. Whoever eats the fastest eats the most and all that crap. I’m not going to waste a perfectly good, super chocolatey cake, and I don’t give a flying fuck about acting ladylike in front of this man.
He thinks I’m going to bend over and beg him for his dick? He’s got another thing coming. What happened before, on the first night, wasn’t something I’m proud of. If Silus thinks he can play me like a fiddle, he’s got another thing coming.
It’s only when he takes his first forkful of the cake that Silus asks me, “How is your brother liking his confinement?” What a weird way to ask me how Max likes being kidnapped.
The only thing I can do is glare at him. He knows it’s a sore subject. He’s purposefully poking the bear that is me, wanting to get a reaction. If I don’t know any better, I’d say he enjoys seeing me react.
“Oh, you know, Max is doing great. He’s so happy to be a prisoner,” I say dryly.
“He should be. It’s only because of you that he’s still alive. If it wasn’t for you, love, I would’ve gotten my hands dirty on him a long time ago. What you and your brother attempted… I can’t say anyone’s ever tried before, but many people have tried to kill me, and they’re lying face-down in the dirt now, being eaten by worms.”
He’s trying to act intimidating, but I’m not going to let it work on me. I roll my eyes and mutter, “Surprised they’re not swimming with the fishes.”
Silus laces his hands together and stares at me over them as he says, “There aren’t any deep rivers nearby. Only shallow ones. I don’t know about you, but when I have my men dispose of a body, I typically prefer that body remain in the ground.”
I can keep making jokes. I can say and do anything I want to make myself feel better, but it will never change the fact that I am this man’s captive. Silus basically owns me now, and he is probably the most dangerous man in the city. The things he’s done I’m sure I could never even dream of.
Honestly, I don’t know what makes me ask, but I find myself questioning him about something that is absolutely none of my business: “How many people have you killed?” A morbid curiosity, something whose answer I should never hear, especially while I’m in his care.
Though his hands are before his face, he still holds onto his fork. He slowly twirls his fork as he says, “That depends. Are you asking how many I’ve killed myself, or how many I’ve had my men kill?”
The question brings out an uneasy feeling in my gut, and I have to look away and say, “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to—” But it’s too late. I already asked him, and the answer is not shocking.
“What kind of man keeps count of the lives he’s snuffed out? Someone proud, someone so lost up his own ass that he wants others to worship and fear him. I don’t give a shit about worship when it comes to everyone else in this city, and I’d rather not have fear—those who only fear you are those most easily swayed. I demand respect. True respect.”
Silus lowers his hands and carefully sets down his fork. “I do not seek out people to kill. I don’t kill random people in my spare time. Thea, I only give what’s been given to me first. An eye for an eye, so to speak. To most of the people in this city, the ones who keep their heads down and their noses clean? I would never harm a hair on their head. But the ones who try to steal from me, the ones who try to sabotage me or my businesses… I do what must be done.”
I guess, if I have to choose between an absolute psycho and someone like Silus, I’d rather choose Silus. He might have twisted morals, but at least it’s a code of some sort.
He continues, “Make no mistake: I am no stranger to torture and killing, Thea. The only reason your brother is still alive and not in a dozen pieces is you.”
“Lucky us.”
“Most people would consider themselves lucky if they were in your position, having done what you and your brother attempted. You drugged me, kidnapped me, and intended to sell me to my enemy. I think I’m being rather reasonable, don’t you? Especially considering the fact that I offered you and your brother all the money you’d need—”
Shaking my head, I cut in, “Like you really would’ve given us anything if I would’ve let you go.”
Silus is a deadly sort of serious when he tells me, “Yes, I would have. I am a man of my word. This could have all been avoided if you would’ve been more reasonable—although, if I’m honest with you, I’m glad you weren’t reasonable. Our fun together is only beginning.”
