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“How am I supposed to act normal?” I whisper, looking over at Ian. He’s watching the crowd, considering all of the different people who are here tonight. There are a lot of people. There are business associates of my fathers and people from the other families in the city. Some of them have close ties to my dad. Others are mere acquaintances my father wants to show a good time.

“What is normal, anyway?” Ian asks. He turns to me. His perfectly manicured fingers grip the cold glass that houses his whiskey. Ian is the type of person who takes care of himself. He’s got perfect teeth, perfect hair, and a perfect body. Every inch of him is sculpted to perfection. Why? Because he’s a machine. He’s a killing, fighting, fucking machine, and he needs to look perfect regardless of what he’s supposed to do.

“I don’t understand.”

“Look at this room,” he says, holding his glass up. I look at the room. While we received a few stares when we started walking into the space, everyone is ignoring us now. Nobody seems to notice the fact that the two of us are just standing here enjoying our drinks. They all have their own problems.

There are the twins, Addison and Maddison, who have both slept with my father. Neither one knows the other has done this. The two of them chirp happily at a nearby table. They’re probably talking about how great it is to enjoy a party with free booze and food.

Then there’s Henry. He’s one of my dad’s henchmen. I’m not sure if that’s the right word. He does stuff for my father, though: things I’m not supposed to know about. One time, Henry was taking care of something in the basement and I sneaked down the stairs. I know exactly where to step so the boards don’t creak, and I watched.

I never sneaked down there again.

There are some things I don’t need to know about. There are some things I don’t need to understand. The things that happen in the basement fall into that category.

Now, as I look around the room, I spot other people I recognize: a man who once paid my father nearly a million dollars for some sort of favor. A woman I’m fairly certain he slept with when my mother was still alive. There are a couple of brothers here who have been trying for years to get on my dad’s good side.

Basically, everyone I see is someone who has some sort of relation to my dad.

I just don’t always know what that relation is.

“You see it, don’t you?” Ian asks. I don’t say anything for a moment because I don’t want to admit that he’s right. I don’t want to admit that this dude is completely and totally correct. He thinks he’s onto something here, calling out the things that are wrong, but he’s not. He’s not onto something. He’s onto the opposite of that. He’s onto nothing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whisper. I do, though. None of this is normal. Ordinary people don’t attend huge parties at rented-out hotels. Normal people don’t have security guards who keep an eye on them. Regular girls don’t get kidnapped from their own parties or sleep with their captors.

I feel Ian’s glare as I look at the room. He’s not watching the people. He’s watching me. Still, I can feel his wrath start to boil just beneath the surface of his skin. He carries his anger well. Not all men do. Some of them let these things seep out slowly at first and then all at once. They lose control and that’s when things like hitting happen.

That’s when they do things like destroy their families.

Ian is far too controlled for any of that. If I let him, he might break me, but something tells me that he won’t. He seems to play carefully with his toys. Even when he was sliding his dick deep into my tight, aching pussy, he was in complete control of the situation. He knew exactly how to move to make us both come. He knew how to assert his dominance.

“You know better than to lie, Rose. Don’t think I won’t beat the shit out of your little ass.”

I turn to him, shocked. We’re in public now. We’re in public at my father’s party, yet Ian is talking to me like I’m...what? His whore? He’s talking to me like I’m his own private slut, which I most certainly am not.

“Ian, don’t do that. Not here.”

He laughs and shakes his head. Then he grips my wrist with his hand and leans in, pressing his lips against my ear. His words are quiet enough that only I can hear them, but they’re deadly.

“Rose, don’t act like a fucking saint. We both know how much you wanted my cock, how much you’ve always wanted it. One more step out of line and the next time I fuck you will be right here at the party.”

I still. Something about his threat both horrifies and delights me. Here? At the party? In front of people? He wouldn’t...would he? Somehow, I know that this guy means business. I don’t think Ian is the type of person who wouldn’t keep his word. I think he’s exactly the type of person who keep a promise. In fact, he’ll most likely go to great lengths to keep his word.

So I shut my mouth and nod, letting him know that I understand. I might not be happy about this situation, but I understand what he’s talking about.

A moment later, my wrist is free from his grasp and the two of us are walking through the ballroom. Together. I know what he’s doing. He’s showing off his prize. My makeup is surely smeared. I tried to straighten my hair as best I could, but it wasn’t entirely possible, and Ian wouldn’t give me a mirror. Now I’m walking through a crowd of picture-perfect people and already I can hear the whispers.

He’s asserting his dominance once again.

After all, it’s not every man that fuck Marco Amato’s daughter.