Page 84 of The Wrong Man

One word. Simple and direct. No hesitation, no shame, no caveat.

Yes.

My heart does something complicated in my chest. A flutter, a skip, a strange swooping sensation that has no business existing in this context.

This is nothing to be happy about. Absolutely nothing. The fact that Dante is attracted to men doesn’t change our situation. Doesn’t change what he is or what he’s done or the fact that I’m his prisoner.

Except.

Except it means that seduction is definitely on the table. As an escape strategy, I mean. I’d already been considering it as a possibility, figuring that even straight men sometimes respond to persistent attention, especially lonely ones. But now... now I know he actually likes men. This is wonderful.

For escape purposes, of course.

Nothing else.

Sweet Jesus, why did I think of that phrase? On the table. Now I’m picturing... things. Things I should absolutely not be picturing about my captor, regardless of his sexuality or his cheekbones or the way he’s still looking at me like he’s waiting for my reaction.

“Oh,” I manage. “That’s... good to know. I mean, not that it matters. Why would it matter? It doesn’t matter at all. I was just curious. Making conversation. Normal breakfast conversation about... about sexuality and pretty apprentices and...”

I shove a piece of toast in my mouth to stop myself from talking.

Dante’s lips twitch. That almost-smile that I’m becoming dangerously fond of.

“Eat your breakfast, Dylan,” he says, and goes back to his coffee.

I chew my toast and try to calm my racing thoughts.

This changes things. This definitely changes things. I knew Dante was lonely, knew he was starved for connection and kindness. My plan has always been to exploit that, to make him care about me enough to lower his guard or even choose to let me go.

But now I have another avenue. A more direct approach. If Dante is attracted to men, and if I can make him attracted to me specifically...

I think about yesterday. The dinner, the conversation, and before that, the way he looked at me when I cried over my macarons. The way his voice went rough when I touched his arm. The way he said my name, like it meant something to him.

Maybe I don’t need to do anything. Maybe it’s already happening. Maybe Dante is already attracted to me, already falling, already so tangled up in whatever this is that he threatened to kill his friend just to keep me safe.

The thought should be triumphant. Should feel like victory, like my plan is working better than I ever hoped.

Instead, it just makes me feel confused.

Because when I think about Dante being attracted to me, when I think about using that attraction to escape, I don’t feel clever or strategic.

I feel guilty.

And underneath the guilt, buried so deep I almost don’t recognize it, I feel something else.

Something that might be hope.

Chapter twenty-four

Dante

Dylan asked if Ginni was my boy.

The words have been echoing through my mind all morning, ricocheting off the inside of my skull like a bullet that won’t stop. My boy. As if I would ever... as if Ginni could ever...

But that’s not what’s consuming me. What’s consuming me is why Dylan asked. The tension in his voice. The way he couldn’t quite meet my eyes. The flush that crept up his cheeks when he blurted it out.

He was jealous.