Page 60 of Ruthless Desire

I tremble in his hold, my grand illusions of escape shattering like spun glass. He's right, has always been right. There's no outwitting him, no exploiting his weakness.

Because his only weakness... is me.

He leads me away from the crowd, grim purpose in his stride. I stumble along beside him, my earlier defiance giving way to creeping dread.

We end up in a small, shadowed room, far from the glittering opulence of the gala. Dante rounds on me, backing me against the wall, his hands braced on either side of my head. A cage of flesh and bone, as inescapable as any lock and key.

"This defiance ends now," he says, his voice deadly soft. "This is your last warning, moy voron. Next time you try to run, next time you break the rules?" His finger grazes my cheek, a touch like a razor's edge. "I won't be nearly so lenient."

I swallow hard, my mouth dry as parchment. "Lenient?" I rasp, hating the quaver in my voice. "Is that what you call this? Locking me up, crushing my every attempt at free will?"

His eyes flash, something dark and fathomless swirling in their depths. "Oh, Natalie," he sighs, shaking his head as if I've disappointed him. "You have no idea of the depths I'd sink to keep you. The dark delights I'd introduce you to, should you continue to defy me."

Dante's hand slips lower, grasping my throat in a grip that teeters on the edge between caress and asphyxiation. "I'd string you up like the work of art you are, trussed and trembling for my touch. You'd weep so sweetly as you writhed on my cock, your tears a seductive melody to my ears."

I stare up at him in mute horror, my mind rebelling against the lurid images he paints. I've always known he was a monster, but this... this is a new level of depravity, even for him.

"Why?" I whisper, my revulsion giving way to a dull, aching confusion. "Why me, Dante? Why do you want to possess me so badly? What did I do to deserve this... obsession?"

For a moment, something almost akin to surprise flickers across his chiseled features. As if he doesn't fully understand the depths of his desire, the driving need that propels him to such extremes.

But then it's gone, shuttered behind an icy mask of control once more. "Because you're mine," he growls, as if it's the only answer that matters. The only one that ever will. "Because you always have been, from the moment I first saw your work. Your broken, blackened soul."

He crushes his lips to mine, a brutal claiming that robs me of breath, of reason. I feel myself slipping under the onslaught of his desire, the twisted, fevered want that bleeds from him, thick and poisonous.

He jerks away as abruptly as he began, leaving me bereft, gasping. Straightens his suit with methodical precision, a predator tucking away its claws.

"Come," he says, extending the crook of his elbow. "We have an auction to conclude. And an after-party to attend, should I decide you've earned the privilege."

I sway on my feet, off-balance from the whiplash of his moods, the violence of his touch. Part of me longs to rebel, to spit in his face and refuse this charade of normalcy.

But a larger part, the wounded animal cowering in the dark of my heart, knows better. Knows the futility of resistance in the face of his unrelenting control.

So I take his arm, falling into step beside him like the perfect accessory I am. A doll, a decoration, a hollow shell slowly filling up with his poison.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur, my mind detached from the glittering façade surrounding me. I smile when I should, utter the right platitudes, and even manage a few bright peals of laughter that only sound a little forced to my own ears.

But inside, I'm numb, retreating deeper into myself with each passing moment. Erecting walls around my tattered psyche, a desperate bid for self-preservation.

At least, until the ride home.

Dante is quiet as the Escalade purrs through the midnight streets, his profile sharp and unreadable against the strobing neon of the city's underbelly. I risk a glance at him through my lashes, trying to gauge his mood, the portent of what awaits me when we reach our gilded prison.

Will it be pain or pleasure that greets me when we cross the threshold? A brutal ravaging to punish my transgressions? Or a twisted form of affection, a reward for playing my part so well?

With Dante, it could be either. Could be both, the line between torment and ecstasy forever blurred in his monstrous makeup.

The tension mounts with each passing block, each red light stretching out the horrible anticipation. I feel like a livewire, my every nerve ending exposed and sizzling.

I can't take it anymore, this crushing silence. The not knowing. I'd almost prefer his cruelty to this maddening suspense.

So I do something foolish. Something reckless and ill-advised.

I open my mouth and bait the beast.

"Well, that was quite the show," I drawl, my voice steady despite the hammering of my heart. "Tell me, do you always prance your playthings around like prized poodles? Or am I just special?"

Dante's head snaps towards me, his eyes flashing in the half-light. For a moment, I think he might strike me, wrap his fingers around my throat and squeeze until I turn blue.

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