I raised my eyebrow. “I’ve put a tracker in your wedding ring—did you honestly think I wouldn’t check on you from time to time in Melbourne?” Time to time—meaning every f**king minute. I’d been an obsessed creep.

“You spied on me?” she whispered.

I shrugged. “Spied…kept you safe. Same difference.”

She laughed. “Hardly. But okay—if that’s your first question. I’ll answer it.” Taking a deep breath, she said, “Yes, I have an older brother. His name is Samuel, and he’s twenty years older than me. He wanted a younger sister about as much as my parents wanted another child.”

My heart pummelled against my chest at the thought of Tess growing up in a household with no love, company, or connection. Assholes. Maybe they deserved payback. My mind ran wild with ways to make them suffer.

Her family would never see a cent from me. Ever.

“Why get pregnant then? If they only made your life a misery—what was the point?”

My brutal question didn’t faze Tess. Her fingers turned white around her glass, but she answered bravely. “I was a mistake. My father had a vasectomy but it failed. They never forgot to tell me that every year.” She dropped her hand, playing with the tablecloth. “When I turned twelve, they pretty much stopped pretending to raise me. I was self-sufficient in their eyes. They embraced retirement. It worked well for them—having a younger daughter craving attention, I did almost everything they asked me to do. They had a live-in maid, and a terrible cook, for free.”

My heart wanted to claw its way out of my chest. She’d been a slave to her own family. Fuck me.

Then she’d become mine. No wonder she took to housework with Suzette so easily. It was normal for her—a regression to the past she’d tried to escape.

Shit, this game sucked. Even though it was me asking the questions—her answers were f**king me up. I vibrated with anger, frustration, and a need to deliver vengeance.

I wanted some ass**le to come charging through the door intending to kill me, so I could stab him over and over and trade my anxiety for revenge.

“Why didn’t they adopt you out? That would’ve been the right thing to do if they had no intention of raising you right.”

Tess pursed her lips. “They’re very old-fashioned. The same reason why they didn’t get an abortion. They gave me life and made the ‘sacrifice’ to raise me.” Clearing her throat, she waved her finger. “No more questions. You’re breaking the rules. You only get one question and now it’s my turn.”

Oh, shit.

Straightening my back, I clutched my glass, ready to drink before she even asked her question. My lips were sealed. If I was going to ever admit parts of my life prior to Tess, I wouldn’t do it in a restaurant. However, as far as privacy went, we had tons of the f**king stuff. No one paid attention to us. No one sent my hackles rising. And Franco sat behind us in a separate booth only metres away for protection.

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Tess took her sweet time formulating a question. “You never mention your childhood. Did you have a happy upbringing? Tell me about your mum.”

Ah, f**k. Definitely not drunk enough for that question. Out of all my family, my mother was the least shrouded in lies and monstrosity. So answer it. I gritted my teeth, keeping an eye on the door as a man in a black suit strolled in.

Fine, I would answer that one.

“She died when I was young.”

“Oh, that’s awful. How?”

My mind drifted, bringing to life a woman who I vaguely remembered.

“Quincy?”

I popped my head into her boudoir. I wasn’t allowed in there unless she summoned me. I’d just turned twelve and would be leaving for boarding school soon in London. I couldn’t wait. “Oui, mère?” Yes, mother?

“Come here. It’s like I haven’t seen you in months.” It wasn’t quite months, but it was definitely a week or two. I tended to avoid her—avoided the lisping, tearful woman who I’d never been close to.

She gathered me in a hug, clogging my throat with peach schnapps and lavender oil. “You stay away from your father, you hear me? Just stay away.” She burst into tears; I unwillingly hugged her back.

I knew why she wanted me to stay away from him.

I knew his darkest secret.

“Q? Are you going to drink, answer, or dare?”

I shook my head, dispelling the memory. This game successfully stirred old thoughts I wished would remain buried. I wouldn’t put myself through it again. I wouldn’t be able to stop her from entering my mind if I pursued that line of recollection.

I drank.

The easiest of my family members to talk about—yet, I couldn’t. Fucking didn’t have the strength.

The man in the suit moved to sit in a booth. On his own. My leg twitched, brushing my knife against the chair leg. Why doesn’t he have a date? The beast inside broke its hibernation, sniffing for a threat.

Tess frowned but let it go. Silence fell between us. What question could I ask that wouldn’t spin around and bite me on my ass?

Tess rushed, “You said you share your father’s name. If you hate it so much, why didn’t you legally change it?”

My fist curled around the glass as dark rage seethed in my gut. He was definitely not up for discussion—in any form.

“Let it go, Tess. Family is not permitted in this stupid game.” I looked into my glass, swirling the amber alcohol. I was tempted to swig again, but…she already knew the answer. It wouldn’t make a difference as I’d already admitted to it more than once.

Dragging a hand through my hair, I said, “I kept it because it’s a daily punishment. A reminder that no matter the temptation, I will never become him. The man named Quincy was a f**king monster—those genes live in me. I can never forget that.”

Tess reached across the table, grazing the back of my hand with cool fingertips. I recoiled from her touch, nursing my drink. I didn’t like this f**king game, and I couldn’t stop the anger swirling inside.

My eyes fell on the man again. He seemed innocent but the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The beast inside sharpened its claws, ready to attack.

Were we being stalked or were my senses overrun with suspicion?

“Q…you’re many things but you will never be him.”

You sure about that, Tess? I didn’t have the urge to go dark yesterday because I’d been high on love—intoxicated on doing the right thing and healing her—but what about next time? Would I still be tamed, or would I eventually want more than she could give me?