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And then the collar around my throat vibrates. A single pulse.
What the hell?
My fingers fly to my neck, memories of some Z-movie character dying with a collar-shock freewheeling through my mind.
Surely he’s not that crass. That inelegant. Because that would be… disappointing.
The gold clasp warms—just slightly. Not painful. Not yet. Just a warning. A reminder.
And then a message appears on screen:
Disobedience earns punishment, little thief.
Go to the playroom.
Kneel.
Wait.
I freeze. My heart starts to hammer like it’s trying to escape. He knew I’d try. He left this here like bait. Like a fucking test. Again. And I walked right into it.
The collar cools. My skin still tingles with shame. With something darker.
Now I have a choice.
Run? Try to hack my way out of the penthouse altogether, take my chances with the cops? With death?
Or… obey?
God help me—I stand, walk out, head to the other room I discovered in my fury tour today. The room with more toys and gadgets than The Club app that landed me in this shit in the first place.
I walk to the center of the room.
And I kneel on the leather mat reserved for my shame.
In the room he built just for this.
CHAPTER 9
Dante
One Hour Later
She kneels exactlywhere I expected her to.
Not looking up. Naked again.
Her hair is wild and hands loose. Thighs trembling. Mouth set in that stubborn pout I already dream about ruining.
I walk around her once. Twice.
She stays still. Breathtaking. A good girl when she wants to be. “You broke the rule,” I say quietly.
She lifts her chin but keeps her eyes downcast. “So punish me.” A hint of a brat in there. She’s cute, my chaos-baiting thief.
I smile, feeling the fire of her gaze even without looking into her eyes.
“No.”