Page 59 of Lies like Rubies, Part One

“I need my bag,” I whispered, unwilling to let him wrest this from me.

“On second thought, I’d rather see your mascara running down your face,” Dante said.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Strip, slut.”

I dropped my toiletries, then raised my dress over my head, revealing the ruby red lingerie I’d worn especially for him.

His muffled curse heated the ice in my veins. Dante might be cruel, but he wanted me. And I could use that against him.

“You wore that all day, kitten?” he rasped. “For me?”

My cheeks flushed. He made it sound like I wanted to impress him rather than manipulate him.

“Ah, kitten, you’re gorgeous when you’re embarrassed,” Dante said, his smile warming his voice. He scraped the palms of his hands from my shoulders to my wrists, blazing a trail down my skin. “It pleases me to know that you wore this all day, that satin brushed over your skin every time you moved, and you thought of me.” His hot breath against my earlobe sent shivers careening down my spine, his sandalwood scent enveloping me and taking my breath away.

“You can wear it for dinner,” he murmured, “as you’ve gone through so much effort already.”

I wondered if he’d leave me in the cage again for room service to stare at as they delivered food. Instead, he snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. “Crawl.”

Rage clawed through my chest, but so did need, a burning wish to be good for Dante, to deserve his praise rather than his derision. How quickly he’d trained me, I thought bitterly.

“You’re beautiful when you’re angry,” Dante said, his eyes sliding over me with appreciation. “More beautiful when you cry, though,” he added, lest I think too much of myself.

He dropped a cushion at his feet, and obediently, so goddamned obediently, I knelt and allowed him to run his fingers through my hair.

When he offered me a forkful of food, I opened my mouth, and the flavor of thecarpaccioexploded on my tongue. It was so familiar, but Dante didn’t allow me to look at the table to try and identify the restaurant.

Instead, he fed me the next course, and I immediately identified the delicate flavor as my favorite dish from Baldino’s. Bite by bite, he took me on a sensual tour of Sicily—all the dishes I loved most from my uncle’s restaurant.

Dante would’ve had to have asked my uncle or someone at the restaurant for my favorites. Butterflies battled in my stomach, careening to and fro, making it hard to think and breathe. A week ago, he’d told me he was kind to make the cruelty hurt more. I held onto that thought as he fed me, trying not to see the gesture as more than it was, another way to build me up before he tore me down.

“Come here, kitten,” he said, spreading his legs and indicating the space between them.

“Next, you’re going to tell me you’re dessert,” I muttered, unable to bottle up my sarcasm.

His startled laugh surprised me, as did the gentle stroke of his fingers down my face. “Close your eyes.”

Electricity crackled between us as he ran his fingers along my bare skin, leaving trails of fire that made me crave more. I inhaled his sandalwood scent, giving into the sensual spell he wove around me until my heart pounded and my breath came in uneven shudders.

“Open your mouth.”

He placed a morsel of chocolate on my tongue, and as if by instinct, I closed my lips around his fingers, sucking on them as he drew them away. Dante couldn’t hide his ragged exhale, and exultation rushed through me.

I affected him as much as he affected me.

“Slut,” he growled, “behave.”

But the rumble of his voice, the censure, did something to me. I shifted on my knees, craving pressure between my thighs.

Dante’s soft laugh surprised me, the warm sound of it spreading through my chest like honey.

He fed me another piece of chocolate. “Tell me about Sergio,” he commanded.

When my eyes flew open, he slapped my cheek hard enough to hurt. “I said, eyes closed, slut.”

“What do you want to know?” I whispered.

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