Page 8

But he sees. He knows. “Don’t worry,” he says softly. “I won’t hurt him. Not if you play nice.”
I laugh, bitter and broken. “Is this the part where you break out the chains and call it justice?”
His smile goes dark. “Oh, Dahlia. You think I’m a monster? The devil even? Isn’t that what the other D stands for?”
“Aren’t you?”
He leans in close. “You stole from me. Seven-point nine mil in crypto. You livestreamed it. Mocked me. So yes, you’re going to pay. One way or another.”
“How? You’re going to shatter every bone in my body? Dangle me from my toenails over your penthouse balcony?”
His features crack with the smallest of grimaces. “How unoriginal.”
“What then? Because there’s no fucking way you’re getting your money back,” I snap with far too much of that glee he mentioned. There are over six thousand people and thirty organizations out there tonight basking in Dante O’Driscoll’s unwilling largesse. I’ll die before I take back even one cent of that.
“That’s what insurance is for, little thief. By tomorrow night I’ll barely have felt the loss of the money. But not the insult. That you will pay for. But I’m not interested in bruises. Not yet. I’m interested in surrender. Yours, so we’re clear.”
My breath catches.
He watches me. A cobra circling a mouse.
My vow not to speak lasts one revolution of my chair. “What does that mean?” I snap when he stops in front of me.
He doesn’t hesitate. “It means I want thirty days.”
“What?” My voice is barely there. “Thirty days of what?”
Hands shove into pockets. Eyes blacker than a wormhole. Mesmerizing. Coaxing me to my destruction. He waits a beat. Two.
“Thirty days of your life. Here. With me. You sleep in my bed. You wear what I give you. You obey my every demand. In return—you stay out of jail. Your father stays untouched. Safe. Oblivious to what his genius daughter has been up to. And,” he breathes out, “you do one final heist. With me.”
In my bed…
Heist…
In my bed.
Heist.
I swallow hard. Fight the stupid, giddy elation fizzling through my bloodstream.
This is madness. I absolutely should take my chances with calling his bluff, seeing what he does next. Probably torture. Definitely more threats. Would he be foolish enough to kill me when a few million followers know I planned to rob someone tonight?
I think not.
But… no one knowswhoI actually robbed. So Dante O’Driscoll could disappear me and no one would be the wiser until it was way too late?—
“Why?” I whisper, bypassing my own logic to satisfy the curiosity dancing beneath my skin.
He smiles. Cold and beautiful and lethal and terrifying. “Because you fascinate me, Dahlia. And because I want to know what it sounds like when you beg.”
CHAPTER 4
Dahlia
Ican’t feel my hands anymore.
The restraints are cutting into my wrists, too tight, like he wants to make sure I remember who has the power.