Page 45

Ivy

“Yeah?” Dante's voice was muffled and quiet as he leaned over the edge of the bed to distance himself from me. “When?”

I tried to stay still and pretend like I was asleep so he didn't think I was listening to his conversation. I was laying on my side, facing away from him. But my eyes were wide open.

“Alright, I'll be there.” I heard the phone beep as he hung it up, his hand coming down to settle on my hip. “Ivy, are you asleep?”

I didn't answer. In all honesty, I didn't want to know what the phone call was about. Staying silent, I kept my breathing steady and closed my eyes again.

The bed creaked as Dante shifted his weight around, twisting to his back. His arm stayed draped over my side, hand rubbing my lower belly. The gentle stroke sent tingles over my body, my stomach dipping in as it tickled with how light his fingers were grazing my skin.

Rolling to his side, he wrapped his arm over my shoulder, and tugged me against his chest. That was a feeling I liked, one I wanted. Being in his arms cast a sense of comfort over my nerves.

In his embrace, there was safety and a sense that not everything was wrong, that some of this felt right.

Wrapped up in him felt right, his muscles felt right. I fit perfectly into that nook between his arms like it was made just for me.

But I shouldn't feel this! It's wrong in so many ways.

What's that condition called . . .

Stockholm syndrome?

Was I being manipulated by him? Could I really be falling for my captor?

No. I might be in a fucked up situation, but my head wasn't charred and mangled. I knew what I was feeling. If it was some condition I suffered from then I should have been feeling it for Remo, not Dante.

There was no denying what I felt. It was there, settling nicely over my body.

Tugging the covers over my thighs, I felt his lips hit the base of my neck as he dotted it with kisses. The stubble of his jaw brushed against my skin, causing my head to tilt.

“Are you awake now?” he asked, using the tip of his tongue to lick my neck.

“Maybe.” The word came out soft, riding a quick gasp as he bit down on my shoulder.

“Good.” His hand massaged my back, squeezing deep into the muscles. “Can I tell you something?”

“Is it something I need to know?”

“It's something I want you to know.”

“Alright.” Turning my head over my shoulder, I looked up into his eyes.

“When I saw you with Remo awhile back, it made my skin crawl, and I hated you for it.”

Searching his eyes, my brows furrowed. “I think that's a thought you should keep to yourself.”

“No, that's not what I mean. I don't hate you . . .” Running his thumb down the curve of my jaw, he pinched my chin and lifted my face higher. “What I'm trying to say is that seeing you with that piece of shit made me angry. He doesn't deserve you.”

“You don't know me or why I'm there to begin with.” Flipping to my back, I rested my head against his chest. “Just like I'm not here by choice, I wasn't with him by choice either.”

“Tell me what you are to him, tell me so I can end it.”

I wanted to give him answers, I wanted to give him my secrets, I needed him to know. But I felt ashamed of what I was. There's no humanity in being just a body. My mind had been discarded the moment I woke up in his room.

Remo erased who I was, and turned me into his puppet.

“There's nothing you can do, Dante. I'm not his because I want to be, I'm his because he made me that, I'm his because money can buy the world and everything in it.” My eyes dulled, glossing in lost tears and shameful memories.