Chapter 11

After showering and applying minimal make-up, I walk leisurely back into my room, draped in a soft, oversized towel. Alessandro is sitting on my bed, his features hardened in a hostile stare. Dressed to the nines in his Italian suit, he looks out of place in here. I want to tell him exactly that, but I think maybe I already pissed him off enough earlier.

Throwing Ricky under the bus was a cheeky move. I knew how Alessandro would react. He’s insanely jealous. I remember how he responded when other guys even so much as looked my way when I was seeing him. I knew exactly the trouble I was causing. And Ricky’s really the only one who has been nice to me since I ended up stuck with them. But I have lost control in every other way, and when Ricky looks at me like he wants to eat me alive, I knew I had to use his infatuation to my advantage. What better way to escape these psychos than have them turn on each other? My plan is foolproof. The only problem is the guilt I felt when I walked away. When Ricky looks at me with such desire, I crave him just as fiercely .

Is it too early to have Stockholm syndrome? Because every time he steps into my room, my heart races a little faster and I get lost in his eyes.

Rather than acknowledging the irritating asshole on my bed, I choose to continue getting ready for the night out. I enter the walk-in closet and find rows of outfits lining the two walls, everything from fancy designer dresses and shoes to workout gear. These boys really went all out. The creepy shit is all the stuff I know was in my bedroom at my papa’s house. The items I brought home with me from Paris for the holidays and the stuff I know was boxed up under my bed from when I was younger. How did they have time to gather it all up and get it out of there before the place went up in flames? Even if I asked them, I’m sure they wouldn’t tell me.

I grab a pair of denim cut-offs and a cropped T-shirt, smiling to myself at my choice. I know it’ll piss him off more, but that’s on him.

“No fucking chance, Harley,” he growls from the doorway behind me, making me jump. Shit, I didn’t hear him right behind me. Creepy fucker.

He pulls a black three-quarter-length dress off a hanger and shoves it in my direction. “Wear this.”

I raise a brow, my resting bitch face slotting into place. “You don’t own me, Alessandro, you don’t get to choose what I wear.”

He closes the gap between us, forcing me to suck in a breath. “That’s where you’re wrong, princess.” His hand runs up my side, tracing my every curve before pulling me into his hard body. “You belong to me,” he purrs possessively, so much heat in his eyes I think I might combust.

Slowly, I move my head side to side. The words I want to come out won’t. My urge is to yell at him, asserting my independence and reminding him I’m not owned by anyone. But in this cramped space, with his intimidating stare, I am left completely speechless. “I’ll wear what I want to,” I whisper, tipping my chin up defiantly, trying my best to assert myself, even though he makes me feel so powerless.

He brings his hand to my bottom lip, running his finger along it like he’s imagining how I would taste. I’m sure he remembers. “Stop trying to bait me, princess, I don’t have time for your childish games.”

He lowers his face toward me. Fuck. I should shove him away. Tell him to fuck off, that he can’t lay his hands on me without my say so. But something stops me; it’s not fear, but more curiosity. It’s been a long time since we last saw each other, and what we had was explosive. I thought about him a lot over the last two years. Wished things ended differently. Wished there wasn’t still so much pain lodged in my chest when I thought of our time together. But I had resigned myself to the fact that that part of my life was done. My papa would never let me see him again, and it was probably for the best. He was too old for me. Too rich, too powerful, too destructive. Too everything.

“You don’t want to find out what happens if you don’t obey me.” There is a sudden flicker in his eyes, something sinister and I’m sure dangerous, and I decide he’s right. There are some battles not worth fighting.

Sucking in a shallow breath, I take a step back from him, needing space, and go in search of the appropriate underwear. In a pull-out drawer, I find a black lace half-cup bra and thong. Exiting the closet, I still feel his eyes on me as I pile it all up on the bed in front of me. Then I drop my towel. It’s not like he hasn’t seen it all before, and I know if I asked him to leave, he wouldn’t, so why waste my breath? I shimmy into the lingerie while he blatantly watches me like a fucking creeper, just as I expected. Did these assholes all go to the same fucked-up training course on how to be pervs? Cause they’re all experts at it .

I slip the dress on over my head. Alex comes around behind me and secures the zipper, even though I didn’t ask him to, then he moves me so he can stand and admire me. His lips twist up at the sides just slightly.

“Just one thing’s missing.” He produces a small ring box from his pocket, and I go all clammy. I’m not wearing some fucking ring that says I’m his. He pops the box open and takes the ring out. It’s a mammoth square-cut pink diamond, and I almost gasp in shock at how beautiful it is. “Hand,” he demands, a no-shit tone to his voice.

“No! Wearing the dress you want me to is one thing, but I’m not putting that on.” I look at the box like it’s a snake about to strike, because to me right now, that’s exactly what it feels like. Wearing that piece of jewelry will be like an anaconda slowly squishing the life out of me.

With a deep, intense stare, he studies me, his unsettling manner sending shudders through my body. Disobeying him is something he doesn’t appreciate, that much is obvious. “Around this place things might be different, but we’re not going out in public without this town knowing who you belong to,” he utters threateningly, before grabbing my trembling hand and forcing the ring on to my ring finger. “Better.”

I stare down at the ring in disbelief, anger coursing through my veins. I draw in a breath, trying to keep my composure, but really, I want to fucking scream the house down.

Harley, do what you need to do, then as soon as his back is turned, sprint like the fucking wind. By this time tomorrow you will be so far away from him that all this ownership shit won’t mean a thing anyway. Then you can pawn the ring and live off what you make. It’s all about using your brain , I tell myself, hoping to God it’s true. Because there is no way in hell I will marry him.