“Don’t play dumb,” I murmur, stepping closer. “You know how this world works.”
Where is the controlled Phoenix that walked into this room? When did I decide to take this route?
Her breath stutters, but she doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. That makes it worse.
She just nods again. And it crumbles something in me.
My hand’s already reaching out, fingers grazing her jaw. Her skin is too soft against my tough hands. But I try to keep my grip gentle—lying to myself about the kind of man I am.
“I don’t like you,” I murmur, as if I’m not already breaking all my rules for her. “But I can’t stay away any longer,” I admit breathlessly.
Ivy doesn't flinch away from me. Instead, she leans into my hand. And I swear, I can hear the roaring of a crowd, cheering me on.
And that's almost enough to shatter what’s left of my splintering self-restraint.
But I stop. Hand frozen mid-motion. My jaw clenches.
No. What am I doing? This isn’t control. This is collapse.
I step back, as if I'm walking away from the edge of a cliff. “I'll bring you a shirt tomorrow, and let you out to stretch again,” I say, voice rough.
Instead of walking away from this whole mess, I’m planning a fucking schedule?
Crossing the room, I hold her cell door open, nodding for her to step inside before she says another word. She follows without question.
Oh… she'sobedient. Submissive maybe?
My dominant side roars, dick pulsing. Demanding to order her around some more.
Deny, deny, deny. I can’t afford that kind of thought.
She pauses at the cell door for a second. Our eyes meet one last time, and it's not fear I see there.
It's curiosity. Maybe even... interest.
And that? That's going to fuckinghaunt me.
Chapter 18
Ivy
As the door shuts behind him, I stand there like I've forgotten how to move.
My breath is shallow, stuck high in my chest. My skin is hot, my thighs pressed together as if that might somehow calm the ache he left behind.
Phoenix.
I've heard them say his name. It suits him.
I've only seen him once before, and he was masked, blood-soaked, cloaked in menace. That night, I thought he was a monster. A devil. Cold and commanding.
Now I know I was right.
And just my luck, underneath that mask… he's gorgeous. And not in some soft, clean way. No. He’s beautiful like a weapon that's been sharpened until there's nothing left but edge.
Every inch of Phoenix inked, fingertips to jawline. And that jaw… God, it’s brutal. A sharp edge made from gritting teeth through pain. Even the way his hair is slicked back meticulously, screams of control.
His chest stretched the fabric of his shirt like it couldn’t contain the muscle underneath, and my mouth watered as I watched the way it moved as he breathed.
