The intensity of my want for her makes the decision final.
My eyes sweep over the screen. She’s still on the floor, eyes closed. It’s now or never.
I head toward her room, prepared to start the charade. As I approach the door, I look at the image staring back at me one more time.
I want to hold her. Lift her in my arms and carry her to safety. Place her in bed. Strip her out of her jeans and make her comfortable.
The idea of her stripped and lying on her back has my cock straining against my zipper. I push the thought away.
Fuck.
I need to pull myself together. All in good time, but right now, the only thing I need to do is set the plan in motion.
I pull up Matilda’s details and shoot off a text for her to bring up firefly’s dinner. I can’t have her going to sleep without food. She’ll need her strength for what’s coming because I expect her best effort.
A few minutes later, light footsteps come from down the hallway behind me. I stop watching the screen and turn to see Matilda carrying a tray of food.
“That was quick,” I say, offering a nod.
Matilda wouldn’t know what to do with me if I was playful. She’s accustomed to the hard-nosed drug lord that all my other staff have come to know. It’s the way it has to be. I can’t allow people in. It’s dangerous for them and even more so for me. In this world, you never know who you can really trust.
“That will be all,” I say, grabbing the tray from her hand. She doesn’t say a word the entire time because it’s what’s done here.
I take one last glance at the screen to see that Sasha has shifted away from the door. She’s curled up into a ball on the floor, giving me enough room to enter without bumping into her. I want the element of surprise.
Time to get the ball rolling.
Reaching into my pocket, I grab the key and unlock the door that separates her from me as quietly as possible.
It doesn’t work. The girl’s a light sleeper, apparently because the sound of my approach startles her awake. I take her in.
Her hair is disheveled, her blue eyes glassy with broken sleep.
She rubs at her face. “Why are you here?” she asks, voice deep and scratchy, likely from the screaming earlier.
“To feed you.” I walk around her to sit the tray on the nightstand next to her bed.
“Or…you could just let me out. Then you wouldn’t have to bring me food or anything else, for that matter.”
“That seems like a great idea, firefly. Too bad it isn’t happening.”
Her legs are crossed, and her hands lie on top of her thighs, balled into fists. “Stop calling me that.”
“And why would I do that? I quite like it.”
She huffs exaggeratively. “You’re intolerable.”
“Careful,” I warn. “You know what happens to pesky fireflies…right?”
She stares at me blankly, so I continue.
“They get caught and put in a jar.”
“I’m already in a cage. Might as well barricade me further,” she seethes.
“This is hardly a prison, Sasha. It could be so much worse.”
“That might be true, but it’s my right to choose, Gideon. You’ve stripped me of that right, and I’ll always resent you for it.” Her eyes shift to the floor, the fight bleeding out of her. She looks and sounds tired.