Claimed By The Mafia Boss
Once they were gone, Adrien reached for a croissant, took a bite, and licked the butter off his thumb.
“You’re playing with fire,” I said.
He shrugged. “Better than being bored.”
“You think this is a game?”
“No,” Adrien said. “But I think you are. You’re pretending I’m just cargo. Just a package. But you watched me, didn’t you?”
My blood went cold.
“I know you did,” he whispered, voice lower now. “The camera has a faint red light. It blinked.”
My mouth went dry.
“Did you like the show?” he asked, licking another smear of butter off his knuckle. “You should’ve seen me after the third one. I was—”