Silva

Chapter Twelve

• Silva •

—

I thought she was the most beautiful when she was crying. Then she showed me that delightful flush on her face, the desperate squirming, and the humiliation in her eyes when she saw the mess she made on my hand.

I'm not displeased to be proven wrong.

At that moment, she was priceless.

"You're moving," I say to her back.

The tips of her ears are still red as she freezes. Wind pushes the aroma of brunch to me, and the iciness kisses my collarbone through the loose tie.

Irisa turns around with a glowing face and avoids my eyes. We didn't talk about what happened in the morning, but her little body is too honest. The wary, embarrassed flinches when I would get near is playing with the fire in my stomach.

My cock stays hard after hours of simply observing her. I wanted to make her uneasy because I can, and she can't stop me from watching her cum dry on her thighs in streaks.

I didn't permit her to clean up, and she is a good girl for not defying me.

"Pack your things," I add offhandedly.

She scratches her neck gawkily. "Why? Where am I going?"

"With me," I say, "You're moving in with me."

"No," she declines, and the conviction in her voice causes my thoughts to halt.

I know there is a fighter in her. It comes out at different times with different degrees—this time is more compelling. That's another thing I like about her; she doesn't back down when she dislikes something, and she lets me know.

"It's not safe here."

Irisa nods. "I know. The landlord was too cheap to get cameras."

She hiccups as realization color her face with a scarlet hue. Her small hands gesture wildly, her words failing to latch onto the meaning.

"I'm not like that!" she blurts. "I'm not like my neighbor; I don't do that with my landlord, and I pay my rent in cash! Cash, those green papers!"

My lips lift at the corner. "That's what cash is."

"I'll keep paying too—"

I take a step, and she moves one back. "You can still pay, but it will be for a different residence."

Her brows curl in confusion. I take her distraction to close the distance and splay my fingers on the curve of her hips.

"I like this apartment," she mumbles.

I don't. There isn't enough space, it's rundown, and I hate the lack of security. I want her to be under my supervision, and keeping her in the dark would only serve her good.

The neighbors are questionable, and the condo was swarmed by cops before. It's getting too much foot traffic.

I'm exposing myself to unnecessary risks.

Irisa tilts her head, her soft hair falling over her shoulder. The tinge of fingerprints decorates the sides of her neck like a collar.

She snaps her fingers at her revelation. "Did you buy a new condo just for me?"

"No."

Playful excitement cascades down her face, turning it into a small frown. "Oh."

"It's an estate," I reveal.