Page 85 of Sweet Torment

Freddie slides a plate with two slices of lasagna toward us, his smile warm and a little sheepish. “It’s actually not bad considering.”

“It’s a miracle anything made it to the oven,” Tristan drawls, eyeing the slightly charred top with exaggerated disdain. “And there was icing fucking everywhere.”

I giggle, helpless to stop it.

“I finished the cupcakes while you were in the shower.” Freddie’s green eyes rake over me with a little heat and a lot of mischief.

Weller clears his throat, his body tensing behind me. Here we go. “We need to discuss sexual activities in the monitored areas.”

Oh god. Sexual activities. I make a face. Only Weller could make something so delicious sound like a job site safety warning.

“Today was a learning experience.” His intensity is building, his arm cinching a little tighter. “Going forward, I do not want Bianca’s naked body or her intimate experiences on recordings for anyone to see or hear. I don’t know who’s watching those feeds, and I never will.”

“I don’t care about the cameras,” I interrupt, taking a bite of lasagna. The cheese stretches—a long, gooey strand—and I catch it with my tongue, shameless.

“Well, I do.” His lips are suddenly at my ear, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that makes my insides melt. “No one sees you but us. That’s final. This is more of an informative discussion, not a debate.”

A thrill runs through me. “And if I break your rule?” I twist to look at him.

“I’m sure you will find out, Bianca.” His lips curve into a small, dangerous smile that makes my heart skip.

I point at his face, feigning shock. “Did you see that? He smiled!”

He huffs a half-laugh, exasperated, and I lean in, my mouth brushing his ear as I whisper, “I want you to knot me to sleep tonight. Is that allowed, even if the cameras are watching?”

He groans, shifting beneath me, his hands tightening on my hips. “As long as you’re covered up.”

I grin, feeling victorious, and take a triumphant bite of lasagna.

“Bianca,” Weller says, the edge in his voice replaced by something gentler, “I arranged for you to see your parents and Winston during the family dinner tomorrow night. I’ve booked private transportation that I trust, and Montgomery’s guard will follow. Winston will meet you outside and walk you in. He’s recovering well, using a walker. He’s eager to see you.”

At first, I’m excited. But then the anxiety comes, twisting my insides. I haven’t seen my parents since the hospital. Before I was captured. Before I awakened. Before the bond. Before I found out my mother dated Montgomery in college.

I push my fork away, my appetite gone.

It’s a bitter thing, wondering if your mother could be part of the nightmare you’re living. Did she know? Did he trick her? The questions gnaw at the soft places in my memory of my childhood.

Growing up, I was close to my parents. It wasn’t always easy to meet Mom’s sky-high academic standards, the pressure to be perfect, but our house was warm. No screaming. No drama. I felt loved.

Mom cooked my favorite foods when I was stressed. Dad played basketball in the driveway with Winston and me after dinner every night. They came to every event, every milestone.

There’s no way she knew. Right? She was wrecked when I didn’t come home with her from the mountains.

“What is it?” Weller’s voice is closer, his arms banding tighter around me. “Where’d you go?”

Owen is leaning in, eyes dark and unblinking. “Your scent changed,” he observes.

Tristan’s watching me.

Freddie’s hand finds mine across the table. “Bianca?”

I swallow hard. In all of the commotion, I haven’t told them that my mother knew Montgomery and she could be the catalyst for all of it. This makes me feel so fucking guilty. If not for me—if not for whatever connection my mother had with Montgomery—would they have been in captivity in the first place?

I can’t answer them truthfully in front of the cameras. I shake my head slightly, flicking my eyes meaningfully toward the lens in the corner of the room.

“Later,” I mouth.

Understanding dawns in their eyes. Apparently, the bathrooms will have to be our secret sharing space too. Soap, secrets, and fucking.