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“Please,” I spit out, so angry at how pleased he looks that I want to slap that smug expression off his face and then kiss him because he makes me crazy.

“Why?”

“I need to pee.”

He clicks his tongue, leaning against the opposite wall, not appearing as if he will grace me with a bit of decency. The asshole.

“Fine by me. I will just pee my pants.”

He arches an arrogant brow. “You wouldn’t.”

“I can’t hold it in forever,” I snap, puffing.

He casts a look at his fingers as if analyzing his manicure before his eyes find mine. “Beg.”

“No.”

He dismisses my statement with a hand wave before sliding his hands in his pockets. His wanting to appear unfazed pisses me off.

“Pee your pants then.”

“Enzo, I swear—”

“You’re in no position to make demands.” He doesn’t raise his voice, yet I hear the annoyance in it, irritating me to no end.

“So that’s your big plan? Strip me of my dignity, break me to become a damn obedient pet,” I say through gritted teeth.

He smirks. “Hmm, give me more ideas.”

“You want to erase the woman who betrayed you, but guess fucking what? You can’t,” I snap, breathing heavily.

He’s about to leave when I stop my rant. It’s not only about my need to pee, but stretch my limbs. I am getting weaker—hungry and in so much physical discomfort I don’t even know where to start.

“What do you want from me?” I sigh, giving in and hoping he forgot about the begging part. As if.

“I want you to beg.”

“Fucking fine, if that will make you feel better. This is me begging. Should I add ‘sir’ at the end?” I infuse as much sarcasm as possible.

His intent glare reveals he’s onto me.

“Caving so easily?”

“For fucking you, yes.” I shout, giving him my truth while he only wants to see betrayal.

He’s the only exception in my life. That’s torture enough for someone who has needed no one.

“You’re an exquisite liar. I’ve gorged on them like they were the only thing capable of sustaining me.”

I wish his tone didn’t sound so finite, like he made a mistake once, and he won’t repeat it. His voice is as sharp as a sword, slicing through whatever happy end we could have had.

A deep sigh rolls out of my mouth that’s as dry as the seed of hope. “I know. I get it. But tell me what you want to happen before you tire of your vendetta and kill me? Is this how you want to see me die? Starving, peeing my pants, not feeling my limbs anymore?”

“For god’s sake, it hasn’t even been ten hours,” he mumbles.

It sure feels like more.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but my training didn’t involve having to hold in my pee.”