Dante pulls me to the door. By the time I quietly shut it, Noah’s eyes are already closed. I’d prefer to leave the door open so I can better hear if Noah calls for me, but I don’t want our arguments to wake him.
Dante all but drags me behind him through the lobby. He stops in the lounge, his large frame towering over me as he stares at me with an expressionless face and beautiful but dead eyes. My heart starts hammering in my chest. I’m alone with him now, a situation I’m starting to dread for reasons I don’t want to examine.
He drops his gaze to where his fingers are wrapped around my wrist. The marks from his belt are still fresh, the welts where the leather chafed my skin red and swollen. He traces the embossed line with a thumb, brushing the calloused pad back and forth over my wrist.
Letting my arm go, he lifts his hands to the scarf around my neck. I lean away, but that doesn’t prevent him from deftly untying the knot and letting the scarf drift to the floor. He locks his fingers around my neck, caressing the bruises he left there.
My mouth is suddenly too dry. “What are you doing?”
“No one leaves a mark on you but me.”
I’m not even going to ask what that means. The statement is too disturbing.
“Did you like it?” He drags his gaze up slowly until he meets my eyes. “What made you wet? The pain? Or my hand between your legs?”
I swallow. The action makes my throat brush against the rough skin of his palm. “I hated it.”
Or that was the idea. That was what I was trying to achieve by letting him fuck me in such a perverse manner. Now, I’m not so sure I succeeded.
He clicks his tongue. “What happened to my sweet vanilla girl?”
The words could be interpreted as a judgment, but his tone carries no emotion, making it difficult to guess if it’s meant as a compliment or critique.
I clench my jaw at the unwelcome reminder of our history. “I’m not your girl.”
“I disagree.” He smiles that dangerous smile that brings out the dimple in his cheek. “What did I tell you before I took your virgin cunt?”
Caught in the trap of his fingers that are locked around my neck, I’m unable to escape. I can’t run from him or my past. Yet I can learn from my mistakes. I can keep my feelings private and protect my heart.
Lifting my chin, I tell a blatant lie. “I don’t remember.”
His dimple grows deeper even as his eyes turn darker. Colder. “In that case,” he drawls, “let me remind you. I told you if I put my cock inside you, you were mine, that once I’ve had you, I wouldn’t let you go.” His smile is sharp and cruel. “Does that ring a bell?”
How could I forget those words? He looked at me much like he’s looking at me now, with possessiveness, determination, and a dark promise sparking in his amber eyes, as he positioned me in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and stripped me naked while, far below, New York City was going about its business, none the wiser of what was happening in that private guesthouse where he pinned me against the glass and lifted my leg over his shoulder as he went down on his knees like a starving beast.
“You’re mine to mark, Tatiana, whether it’s with my cock, my belt, my hand, a fucking knife… it doesn’t matter. Mine. No one else’s.”
Despite the memories coursing like hot lava through my veins, burning with both nostalgia and regret, I keep my tone cold. “Is this conversation going somewhere?”
“You bet your life it is.” His voice turns quiet, his words sounding sinister. “You owe me another name.”
I gape at him. “For what? So that you can punish the men you yourself sent after me?”
“I told them not to harm you.”
“Why?” I push out a laugh. “So that you could use me one more time to get your revenge?”
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes, his non-verbal language telling me not to test his patience.
“Because you’re mine.” He hauls me closer, causing our bodies to collide. “Which part of that didn’t you understand?”
“And after?” I look into his eyes where the golden flames burn cold instead of hot. “When I’ve served my purpose? Is that when you’re going to kill me?”
He doesn’t as much as blink. “Noah needs his mother.”
“So this is about Noah now, is it?”
His voice drops another octave. “And not about you?” He caresses my neck, dragging this thumb over the vein that pulses there. “Do you want me to care?”