Page 38 of Dance of Ruin

The air is warm. I’m already sweating beneath my hoodie.

"You’re late," he finally says.

I glance at the wall clock. Two minutes past eight.

"Sorry," I whisper. “The subway?—”

“I wasn't asking for an excuse.”

Nico leans back in his chair, the leather creaking underneath him. "Take off your sweatshirt.”

I hesitate.

His brows lift slightly, and something in my stomach plummets. I shrug off the hoodie, turning to drop it onto a chair next to the door. I’m left standing in just my long-sleeve t-shirt and leggings. I’m not cold, but I shiver anyway.

"Hmm," he murmurs, his gaze running over me. "Ballet Barbie reporting for duty. Though I did say to lookpretty."

I flush. My fists clench. I’m not sure if it’s out of anger or shame.

"But you didn’t come here to look pretty, Naomi. You came here because youbelongto me now. Isn’t that right."

I… I don’t know how to answer that.

He doesn’t wait for me to try. He stands, slowly walks around the desk, and leans back against it.

Silence fills the room, building to an uncomfortable, noiseless crescendo.

“So…” I trail off, looking at the floor as my fingers pick at my cuticles. “What did you want me here for?”

I won’t lie. I debated this heavily all night, and all morning before I came here. I wondered if the address was a location where he was going to straight-up torture or murder me. I almost expected to walk in and see chains and hot irons, or a firing squad of mafia hitmen.

“I think I was very clear last night when I said you were mine now,” Nico growls.

I tremble.

That’s another thought I had: wondering if there was something equally dark but in a totally different part of the forest waiting for me here today.

“You’re mine now.”

The tone of his voice and the dark black hunger in his eyes had made it pretty clear what that might mean, even to someone like me.

“But in case I’m mistaken,” he purrs, “and I wasnotas clear as I could have been, let’s start with something simple." He takes a final drag of his cigarette and turns to stub it out in a crystal ashtray on the desk before turning back to me. His lips don't move, but a hint of amusement sparks in his cold gaze.

"Strip."

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach.

I blink. "W-what?"

“I’m quite sure you heard me."

He can’t be fucking serious.

“Nico—“

"You’re wasting my time. And I know you’re not stupid, which means you’re doing so purposefully. It's starting to piss me off.”

He rolls his neck, exhaling slowly.

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