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Vice leaned in further, captivated. “The attic? How charming. What led to such a… creative form of discipline?”

A slight tremor betrayed her carefully composed facade. “She’d only do it when my father wasn’t home. Sometimes itwas because I did something wrong; other times… I think it was because she just didn’t want to deal with me, didn’t want me around.”

Vice leaned back against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips. “So, how did that make you feel, Ivy?” He met her gaze with a playful challenge dancing in his eyes.

Ivy raised an eyebrow, an incredulous look crossing her face. “What are you, my therapist now?”

Vice snorted, the amusement in his eyes bubbling over. “Hardly. I’d charge a lot more for that privilege.” He leaned in closer, his tone shifting, an edge creeping in. “But I do want an answer.”

Her arms crossed defensively, Ivy’s expression hardened. “It felt like being worthless. Like nothing I did mattered at all.”

Vice nodded mockingly, enjoying the moment. “Worthless… Interesting.

Sounds like a perfect foundation for someone who makes poor choices.” He smirked, leaning even closer. “Tell me more, Ivy. How did it shape the woman you are today?”

Suddenly fierce, Ivy shot back, her voice steady. “You think you know me? You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

His eyes glinted with intrigue. “Oh, I think I’m just starting to scratch the surface. But keep talking; I’m all ears.”

The pain in Ivy’s voice was unmistakable as she recounted her past. “It felt like I was invisible. Alone. Like she didn’t love me. I could hear her moving around, laughing, while Iwas trapped in darkness. The worst part was knowing she didn’t care.”

With a mocking lilt in his voice, Vice replied, “Sounds lonely. So, what did you learn?”

Ivy clenched her fists, a storm of emotions swirling within her. “It taught me fear. I had to survive her anger, her rage. She was abusive—physically and mentally. I was just a child.”

A smirk tugged at the corners of Vice’s mouth, his interest clearly retained. “A shame. But it seems you’re still here, aren’t you? Survivors like you often hold the most intriguing depths.”

“Seriously?” Ivy snapped in frustration, the remnants of her composure crumbling. “Why do you keep digging into my past, my trauma?”

Ivy's eyes flashed with anger. "I don't care what you say, stop it," she said firmly, taking a step back. "You think you know me, but you don't."

Ivy's steps are measured as she walks away from Vice, her bare feet silent against the cold stone floor of the dining hall. Each step takes her further from the warmth of his body, the heat of his passion. She keeps her gaze down, focusing on the patterns in the stone, the way the light from the windows dances across the surface. It's easier than looking at him, easier than facing the tumult of emotions churning in her stomach.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of feigned obedience and stolen moments of plotting. Ivy knew she had to play the game if she wanted to win. But as she lay beside him that night, listening to the steady rhythm of his breath, she feltthe beginnings of doubt. That she could win this game. Why had she gotten upset at his earlier words?

Chapter 18:

The following days saw a shift in their relationship, an unspoken understanding that neither of them fully grasped. They danced around each other, a delicate dance of power and control, each step fraught with tension and desire. Ivy continued her attempts at seduction, using her wits and beauty to manipulate him, while he allowed her small moments of rebellion, his eyes gleaming with amusement at her audacity.

One morning, as Ivy sat by the window, watching the sunrise, Vice approached her from behind. His touch was gentle as he wrapped his arms around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. "You're not going anywhere, Ivy," he whispered, his voice a mix of affection and threat. "But I can give you a taste of the outside."

He didn’t wait for a response; he led her outside. She stood frozen in the dimly lit courtyard, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings as Vice led her to a makeshift archery setup. The sound of birds chirping and the soft murmur of his voice were the only sounds breaking the silence. She had never held a bow before, and the weight of the one Vice handed her felt daunting.

"You've clearly never held a bow," Vice said, his tone one of amusement and cruelness as he chuckled darkly.

Ivy glared at him out of the side of her eye. "What gave you that idea?" She crossed her arms, a move that made him pause ever so slightly before continuing to circle her.

Vice moved until he was directly behind her, the space between them shrinking to nothing. Ivy instinctively stiffened, her shoulder blades pressed back as if trying to create animpossible gap. His chest nudged her forward. He reached out, his hands engulfing hers. The unexpected contact made her gasp, a small, involuntary sound.

"Like this," he murmured, his breath ghosting across her ear. He shifted her grip on the bow, his fingers strong and sure against hers. "Your fingers are too tight. Relax them."

Ivy struggled to concentrate, the feel of his body so close overwhelming her senses. "Uh huh," she stammered, hating the way her voice trembled.

He guided her hands to the arrow, positioning it on the string. "Nock it like so. See?" He pulled the string back, forcing her to do the same. The tension in the bow vibrated through her arms, mirroring the nervous tremor running through her entire body.

"Too high," he corrected. "Your elbow needs to be higher, creating a straight line to the target." He adjusted her arm, his touch lingering longer than necessary.

Ivy's heart hammered against her ribs. "And let go." he whispered into her ear.