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I thought that dance was the one thing I had to myself, but I was wrong, apparently. I was so, so wrong.

“You didn’t know.”

He says this like a promise, but it’s just a realization.

“I didn’t know,” I agree.

“Shit.”

He stands there for a minute. Then he shakes his head. What comes next is worse than Ian hitting me or slapping me. Those are things I strangely enjoy. What Idon’tenjoy, what I couldneverenjoy, is the fact that he’s now staring at me like I’m broken.

Damaged.

A look of pity crosses his face, and I hate it.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t look at me like you pity me!” I snap. His hand is on my throat before I finish the sentence, and he squeezes. He raises me up and I struggle as he drops me on my feet. Even once I’m standing, he doesn’t release me. He keeps holding me tightly. Angrily. And as he stares at me, I know exactly why Ian is known as Ian the Destroyer.

I always thought it was because he could destroy a pussy like nobody’s business.

Now I know it’s because he’s the kind of guy who enjoys doing murder. Before the night ends, he’s going to kill me, and he’s going to enjoy every moment of it.

5

“Apologize.”

He speaks only one word, but one word is enough.

I know that Ian means business. I just don’t care. I don’t want to fight him anymore. I don’t want to deal with the fact that he’s only interested in one thing.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“I can’t hear you.”