Page 49

He shrugged her arms off his waist, spinning to face her, his eyes stormy. "What I did for James was a deal, a transaction. Nothing more."

Ivy stepped back, her eyes searching his, looking for a hint of the man she thought she knew. "But you don't have to be like this, Vice."

Vice scoffed, his eyes flashing with anger. "Like what?"

"You know what," Ivy said, her voice firm, her gaze unyielding. "The way you saved James. The way you've been treating me. It's not just about the deal anymore, is it?"

Vice's eyes narrowed, his jaw set. "What are you talking about?"

"The way you look at me sometimes, when you think I’m not looking," Ivy said softly. "The way you talk to me. It's like you're trying to protect me, not just keep me as a bargaining chip."

Vice's expression grew thunderous, his grip on the bow tightening until his knuckles turned white. "You're reading too much into it," he spat out, his voice gruff and dismissive. "You're just a means to an end, Ivy. Don't think there's anything more to it." Ivy started to walk away.

Vice's eyes followed her, his gaze piercing through the shadows of the courtyard. "Where do you think you're going?" His words came out like a demand, a harsh whisper that slices through the silence.

Ivy doesn't look back. She can't. If she does, he'll see the hurt in her eyes, the pain that his dismissal has caused. She tries to keep her steps even, her breathing calm, but her heart feels like it's racing in her chest, thundering in her ears.

Vice is on her in an instant, his hand shooting out to grab her by the throat, spinning her around to face him. His grip is firm, his eyes like ice as they bore into hers. He slams her against the cold stone wall, the impact knocking the wind out of her. "I asked you a question, Ivy," he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

Ivy gasps, her hands flying to his wrist, trying to pry his grip away. Panic started to set in, her eyes wide and frantic as she tries to breathe. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

Vice's eyes narrow, his grip tightening. "Don't walk away from me," he snarls, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

Ivy's eyes water, her nails digging into his skin, trying to find the strength to push him away. "Let... go of me," she chokes out, her voice hoarse and strained.

Vice searches her face, the storm clouds in his gaze swirling with something Ivy can't quite read. For a moment, it seems like he's about to release her, to step back and let her go.

But instead, he pulls her closer, his other hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone. "You don't get to walk away from this," he says, his voice a harsh whisper that sends a shiver down her spine.

Ivy's eyes flicker with anger and defiance, and she reaches up to grip his wrist with both hands, trying to pry it awayfrom her throat. "You don't get to decide that." she croaks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vice's eyes widen in surprise, the intensity of his grip lessening slightly. He stares at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a snarl of frustration, he releases her, stepping back.

Ivy gasps for air, her hand flying to her throat, rubbing at the red marks his fingers left behind. She coughs, her eyes watering, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she spits out, her voice hoarse.

Vice turns away, his shoulders tense, his back to her. "You," he says, his voice filled with a mix of anger and something else, something softer that Ivy can't quite identify. "You're what's wrong with me."

The silence that follows is thick and heavy, a living thing that seems to fill the space between them. Ivy's heart is racing, her chest heaving with the effort to breathe normally. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the words get caught in her throat.

Vice turns back to her, his face a mask of cold indifference. "You're the distraction," he says, his voice flat. "And I can't afford distractions."

Ivy's eyes flash with anger, the warmth of their earlier conversation forgotten. "So that's all this is to you?" she asks, her voice shaking. "A distraction?"

Vice's eyes meet hers, and for a split second, she sees something flicker in the depths, something that makes her stomach clench. But then it's gone, and he's back to being thecold, calculated villain she's come to know. "Seems you're losing our little game" he says, his tone mocking.

The air between them is electric, crackling with tension and unspoken words. Ivy's mind races, trying to make sense of the man before her, the man who's held her so tenderly and yet just a moment ago had his hand around her throat.

"Vice, I'm not a game," she says, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. "I'm a person, with a life, a daughter, and a heart that beats."

Vice laughs, a cold, harsh sound that sends a shiver down her spine. "Don't fool yourself, Ivy," he says, turning away from her again. "You're a piece on my board, a pawn to be moved to get what I want."

Ivy's eyes narrow, the anger in her voice growing stronger. "And what is it that you want, exactly?"

"That's none of you're concern, remember you're place, Ivy." he spits at her.

"Okay," she replied, a cold look on her face, the word dripping with sarcasm. "I'll just be you're little whore, then." She turns away from him, her eyes on the horizon.

Vice's jaw tightens at her words, his eyes flashing with a rage that's been simmering just beneath the surface. "Don't push me," he says, his voice a warning.