Page 116 of He Should Be Mine
“No,” I say. “Better now.”
I swallow tightly. I really, really hope that Isabella has stopped spiking him, because if he wants to play and discovers he can’t? When he is already in a strange and dangerous mood? That’s a death sentence.
His fork pauses halfway to his mouth. Then he lowers it, slowly, and wipes his lips with the napkin.
“Then we should celebrate your recovery,” he says, standing. “Come here.”
My chest tightens. I don’t move.
“Molly.”
I rise.
He leads me to the couch and sits, legs spread, arms resting along the back like he owns the space. Like he owns me. Which he does. Rick owns everything, and I must never forget that.
I perch beside him, careful not to touch, but not so far away that my repulsion is obvious.
He studies me. “You’ve been very… domestic lately. With Dario. I see it on the cameras.”
My smile cracks. “Isn’t that what you wanted? For me to stay here, ready and waiting for you?”
“I want you to remember who you belong to.”
I swallow. The room feels too hot. I shift, and his hand suddenly snakes to my waist.
Not hard. Not yet.
“I’ve been generous,” he says. “I let you play house with your little bodyguard. But let’s be clear, he works for me.”
I nod. The breath feels trapped in my throat.
“Say it.”
“Dario works for you.”
His grip tightens just enough to bruise. “And you?”
“I belong to you,” I whisper.
He smiles. His hand relaxes.
I don’t.
He leans closer. His breath is wine and garlic and violence barely held in check. “You’re so much prettier when you’re obedient.”
I nod again.
He reaches up to touch my hair, stroking it back behind my ear with exaggerated gentleness. “What would you do if I told you to kiss me?”
My stomach flips. “I like kissing you, Daddy.”
He watches me. Waiting.
I lean in. Kiss his cheek. Hopefully, it comes off as playful, like I am getting into the schoolgirl role. I don’t want him to realize it is avoidance and disgust.
He laughs. It’s not a nice sound.
“That’s not what I meant.”
