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Dante shifts, and I catch the menacing glower on his face. "She's mine to do with what I please, and he's fucking up my plans for her."
"Is that so?"
Dante is walking a razor-thin wire. I wish I could warn him. Biting my lip, I focus on the screen again. I don't owe him anything. He abandoned me for the past five days, leaving me to Grant's special brand of discipline. It doesn't matter that he's chewing Jenkins ass for it.
None of this would have happened had he stuck around, though Grant's been randomly beating me for years for his own pleasure. The minute reprieve I had when Dante claimed me slowly wore off. If I hazarded a guess, my handler is worried I'll slip from his control.
Dante straightens, adjusting his sleeves. Where his usual suit coat went, I have no idea. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen him without it other than the one time. Even in just his crisp white shirt he exudes a magnetism that's hard to ignore.
"Clearly, you're not in need of my support as much as you let on. I'm afraid we'll have to part ways, if that's the case."
With the gauntlet thrown, I expect him to wait for Jenkins to fold. He won't. The leader of an organization like the Guild doesn't get in that position by giving in. He'll let Dante walk away, writing him off before he even makes it out the door. Dante doesn't hesitate. Instead, the man who's supposed to own me right now pivots on his heels and stalks for the exit. My mouth drops open and my eyes dart to Jenkins, then back to my computer as I press my lips into a thin line.
Dante's hand hits the handle before Jenkins clears his throat.
"Wait," Jenkins calls, voice rough as he grunts again.
Dante spins, crossing his arms. "Better start talking, Jenkins. I'm not a patient man when it comes to business."
Jenkins’s nostrils flare as his gaze darts to me, and I avert my eyes. The numbers swim across the page, making it hard to pretend I'm ignoring them, which is what I'm supposed to be doing. Jenkins expects me to be invisible until he's ready to harass me or demand shit from me.
"Grant is used to a certain amount of control over her. Upsetting the status quo has...thrown him. He won't be an issue any longer."
"And you expect me to believe that? I've already addressed it with him, yet he's still touching what's mine," Dante growls, and a shiver rolls through me.
I've never wanted to be owned. Living with the Guild for so many years has shown me how that goes for the others. Which doesn't explain the buzz that courses through my body when he says I'm his. Reminding myself that this is all an act on his part does nothing to dispel the tingles curling in my belly.
"He'll be taken care of," Jenkins grunts, pushing from his chair, but goes no further.
"You mean I'll take care of it," Dante says, brows pulling low as he challenges Jenkins.
I gasp softly when Jenkins nods curtly. Dante approaches the desk, settling in the chair across from him, and they start to talk softly—too low for me to hear. I give up trying to eavesdrop and focus on the screen.
It's still a mess of numbers. Different shell company names jump out at me. Like every other time I've looked at this program, I mentally catalog each one, then move money from one to another.
An alert pops up on the bottom of my screen. A doom clock, counting down the time I have left to finish whatever Jenkins wants me to accomplish. With Dante busting in, I've wasted so much time I doubt I'll get it all done, and goosebumps march up my arms. My palms become slick, fingers sliding across the keys in my haste. I know the consequences of not finishing. I'd be a fool to think whatever protection Dante has afforded me from Grant's wrath extends to Jenkins as well.
The leader rarely hits me anymore, but these situations are an exception. Panic floods me as the sound of his belt whipping through the air echoes in my ears. The image in front of me blurs, but not from tears. I'm long past crying over something I can't change. That well dried up long ago.
No, this is my body, shutting down and no matter how I fight it, I can't stop what's coming. Shadows dance along the edge of my vision, promising a reprieve from the horrors that stalk me through the night.
Someone's hand falls on my shoulder, squeezing, and I explode, shoving away from my desk violently. Stumbling from my chair, I'm tipped in the air, thrown over their shoulder. My stomach rolls, but Dante's scent swirls around me, and I clamp my lips together to stop from puking all over his back. He strides from the room, smacking my ass when I stop struggling.
"Don't stop. He's still watching," Dante hisses, and I renew my efforts.
I'm not a great actress, but I pull at the vestiges of fear still licking at the corners of my consciousness, using it to fuel my performance. Grant's harsh voice follows us as Dante stomps through the halls, his hand gripping me tightly around my thighs.
I'm frozen, unable to deal with another altercation. The anxiety from the last few days has finally boiled over into a numb acceptance of my future. I feel like I'm right back where I started when my father first sold me to the Guild.
Over the years, I've learned to shut myself off, protecting the most precious parts of who I am deep within. With Dante's arrival, he's turned my life upside down, throwing me into a void, then leaving me to deal with the fallout alone.
"Get the fuck out of my way, asshole. Unless you'd like another demonstration on how far I can go when someone fucks with me," Dante says, coming to a halt.
"You think you're such an asset to the Guild. You may have Jenkins fooled, but I know there's more to you than meets the eye. I'm going to figure out what you’re hiding. Then we'll see who's really in danger." The smirk in Grant's tone comes through loud and clear.
Dante laughs sharply, his thumb drawing small circles on my skin, and I shiver. Fear wars with desire, meshing together until I no longer know where one ends and the other begins. I am so fucked.
"We'll see about that. I believe Jenkins would like to speak with you. Better crawl, little worm."
