Page 52 of Dirty Behavior

She doesn't like him either.

Following behind him, he strolled to a table in the center of the room. He didn't pull out my chair, he didn't even look at me. I stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure if I was supposed to sit or just stand there like his servant.

Cocking his head up, he nodded to the chair across from him, and whispered. “Sit, before you embarrass me.”

I did as I was told, sitting down gently. My thigh still burned, the chunks of flesh that had been torn away barely scabbed over. Cringing as I sat, Remo shot me a look. I could feel his eyes, their emptiness burrowing a hole into my skin.

But I didn't look up. I wasn't allowed to.

A waitress came over and took our order. He—of course—ordered for me. Soup and salad, but I wasn't hungry, I didn't want to eat a fucking thing. I didn't want anything he gave me. Even the dress on my body made my skin itch so badly I wanted to tear it off and burn it.

“This is nice, isn't this nice?” Spooning soup into his mouth, he pushed the bread my way. “Go on, eat.”

Nodding my head, I took a slice of bread and picked at small crumbs. I knew he wasn't happy about how I was making him look. He watched me like a fucking hawk, just trying to catch one wrong move so he could punish me.

“I want you to realize, Ivy, that this can be good. I'm sure you can see it now, look at us. We're at a nice restaurant, eating like civilized people.” Slurping the liquid off his spoon, he wiped his lips with his napkin.

The sounds coming from him made my stomach turn. I hated having to be anywhere near him. For him to think that this was any type of act to show me he cared, was just ridiculous. Remo was a selfish bastard, that was it, nothing more.

Resting another small piece of bread on my tongue, I could feel an unknown set of eyes just watching me. I wasn't sure where they were, but they were there. I wanted to look up, I wanted to look around, but it was forbidden.

The temptation was killing me.

How can he expect me to just sit here like a fucking puppet?

I listened for Remo's movements, the way he ate, the way he drank. . . I studied it all.

When he ate, he would hold his head upright and forward. But when he took a drink, that would be my chance to catch a glimpse. He had this habit of tipping his head up high and closing his eyes.

There were a lot of habits he had that I started to notice. Small things, but habits nonetheless. His hands moved in a symphony of ways as he spoke. It didn't matter what he was saying, his hands were always dancing around.

When he was in a really good mood, his lip would always curve to the right when he smiled. And when he was angry, his lids would hover half-closed, and his eyes would glaze in chalky white.

Watching him from the corner of my eye, he reached for his glass.

This is it. This is my chance.

The eyes were still on me, hardening my lungs. I had to find them, I had to try and send a message to them for help. If I could signal I was in danger, if I could mouth the words to someone, then maybe this could all be over.

My chance, this is my chance.

As the glass tipped up, I forced my eyes up quick with a sudden and sharp jerk. My body tensed as I tried desperately to search for whoever was looking our way. I failed.

Remo caught me, his mouth thinning as lines creased his forehead in rows. Pounding his fist on the table, my body jolted. Gritting his teeth, he spoke so low only I could hear him.

“How dare you? You just wait, just wait till we get home.”

A large, heavy hand came down on his shoulder, thick fingers curling over tight. “Remo.” The man stood so tall, I was tempted, oh so tempted, to angle my head all the way up just to look at his face.

But I couldn't. The sting in my thigh helped to remind me of why.

“Dante.” Remo's voice hovered in a place I hadn't heard before.

Is that fear?

Or just disgust?

I couldn't quite tell. I had only ever heard him talking to his guys and they were well below him. Remo would bark, and they would move. It was easy to see he was in charge.

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