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There wasn't even a guarantee that any of this shit was still real. Maybe he was just fucking with me too and trying to screw with my head. According to Remo they all worked together. What if this was a game? What if Remo had asked them to scare me into submission for him?

There was so much about this whole thing I couldn't quite grasp. I didn't know exactly how I fit into this puzzle, or why they would try and use me to get to Remo.

I was just a pawn. But the nature of my place still wasn't clear to me.

Remo could be involved by his own hand. He could have put this whole fucking thing together just to make me crack.

How was I supposed to know for sure?

I still didn't have all the answers. I knew they were serious, but how could I know they would give me back?

What if it didn't matter, what if they did decide to kill me anyway?

“Just take it, you have to be hungry.”

“I don't want anything from you. You can take this fucking dress back too.” Wiggling my hips, I rocked my shoulders. “Get it off me.”

“I just saved you for a second time, you might want to show me a little respect.”

Furrowing my brows, my mouth crinkled, pursing tight. “Are you serious?Respect?”Shaking my head, I jingled my wrists. “I've been kidnapped, thrown in a trunk, and

chained . . . Fuck you.”

“Yeah, but you weren't raped, you haven't even been tortured, and I stopped my father from blowing your head off. I could easily make you cry for your life, Ivy.” Dante's face drew in, a thick breath filling his lungs. Scooting himself closer, he danced his fingers over my thigh.

“Don't touch me, you piece of shit.” How dare he even lay a finger on me.

“I'll do what I want, and you'll let me.”

“You're a spoiled sick fuck, and you will never touch me.” I wanted to scream in his face, but the anger I felt went deeper than just letting the words fly out in a storm.

If I was stronger I would've torn these fucking cuffs off by now and made him sorry he even thought he had the option to take me.

“What are you not understanding about this?” His demeanor was eerily similar to his father's. Calm, collected, smooth.

Dante didn't know fear.

How do you inflict fear in someone who isn't afraid of death?

As the thought fluttered through my head I realized that we weren't that different. We both had seen enough and been through enough to know that sometimes death was a friend holding their hand out to help you up.

“You're just like them, just like Tony and Vince.” Veering my stare, my lips drew in paper thin.

“If I wanted to be like them, I could. If I wanted to take you right now, I would.”

His eyes fell over my body, settling on my neck, my breasts, my sex. Licking his lips, his fingers teased the edge of the dress. “Do you want me to take you? Is that what this is?”

“No.” Bending my knees, I tried to move away from his touch. But I found myself warming, tingling, hoping he wouldn't stop.

What is wrong with me?

As much as I wanted to disappear, I wanted to be felt and caressed. His touch was welcomed by every inch of my skin while inside I fought with my body to resist him.

But my lashes went unheard by the sparks that ignited, they fell on deaf ears as my muscles loosened and my sex twitched with arousal and need.

“I don't believe you. I see how you look at me, and you don't have hate in your eyes. There's something else there, something more.”

Could he read my body better than I could?