Isabella
The knock on my door yanks me out of my book, though if I’m honest, I hadn’t been following the words anyway. I’ve read the same damn paragraph five times. The male lead is cruel and impossible to like in ways that remind me of Dominic. I close the book with more force than necessary.
When I open the door, Sharon is standing there, eyes fixed to the ground. She still refuses to look at me despite my efforts to make her feel comfortable.
Leaning against the doorframe, I ask, “Is everything okay?” My tone is soft, so she doesn’t shrink further.
“You’ll be attending the Black Rose Gala with the Master at 8 p.m.,” she says softly.
“The what? With Dominic?” A laugh escapes from my lips.
After the way he treated me yesterday? Yeah, right. Who the hell does he think he is? He expects me to dress up and play a loving, devoted wife? That man is out of his goddamn mind.
“Master asked that you be accompanied to get what you need,” she continues, extending a black card. Her hands tremble as she holds out the card like it’s going to bite her. For a second, I almost laugh again.
Poor thing looks like she’d rather be anywhere else. It’s not her fault her boss is a tyrant, not her fault she has to follow me everywhere and report back to Dominic, like some kind of bodyguard. Not that I mind her presence. I enjoy her company, even though she keeps to herself most of the time.
I glance at it, then back at her. “What’s that for?” Though I already know the answer.
“To get what you need.”
“I don’t need anything from him.” I know I sound childish, but he’s a sadistic bastard. I bite down my next curse and soften my tone for Sharon’s sake. “Not your fault he’s an ass.” Her shoulders relax a fraction. “Just… tell him I’m not interested in being seen anywhere near him.”
Her head jerks up, eyes wide and horrified. “I don’t think—”
“Sorry, Sharon. This isn’t on you,” I say, forcing a half-smile. Then I pluck the card from her hand, pinching it between two fingers. “I’ll tell him myself.”
I storm out of my room, heading straight toward the west wing. My knocks go unanswered, so I damn the consequences and go inside. The sound of running water tells me he’s in the shower. I’ve never been in Dominic’s room, but it is exactly what I would have imagined. Dark green walls. Black bedding. The curtains are shut, preventing even the barest light from coming in. There’s no personal item that says someone lives here. A space deserving of the monster he is.
And apparently, I’m the fool who wandered straight into his web.
With nothing else to do, I pace back and forth, crossing and uncrossing my arms while I think about my next move. Do I snap the card in half for dramatic effect? Throw it at his face and tell him exactly what I think? Or run back to my room and pretend I was never here?
No. He needs to know he can’t treat me like shit.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Dominic’s growl pulls me back to reality. I jolt, spinning toward the sound. My eyes widen as I take him in. Water trails down his chest, cutting over well-defined abs. My gaze drops lower, to the bulge straining against the towel at his hips.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. My throat suddenly becomes dry.
“I-I came to return this,” I stammer, thrusting the card toward him.
He doesn’t take it. “It’s yours,” he says flatly.
He grabs another towel, dragging it through his thick, dark hair. Then turns his back to me, dismissing me.
My traitorous gaze slides to his back. How is a girl supposed to concentrate? I’ve never gotten a clear view of Dominic’s tattoos. A dragon coils across one shoulder, and a jagged cross splits the center of his back. Lower, a skull grins near his spine, hollow eyes staring at me. I hate how badly I want to trace every line of ink with my fingers while I listen to him tell me their stories.
“When you’re done ogling, leave.”
I snap my eyes away, heat crawling up my neck. “What makes you think I’m going to any stupid event with you?”
He pauses, then turns to me. “Oh, Princess, you will”—his eyes narrow darkly—“because when the devil gives an order, even heaven bows.”
“I’d rather burn in hell than bend to your orders.” I plant my feet adamantly on the ground.
The silence that settles next is unnerving when he chuckles darkly, the sound rippling across my skin, raising the hairs on my arm.
