Falling for the Villain

He pulled me back against him, his lips on my neck. “I can’t wait for the day when you look up at me with those gorgeous eyes and say thank you. And truly fucking mean it. Not just because you think I’ll beat your ass if you don’t … which I will.”

I would not cry.

I would not give in.

I simply froze while he held me, wondering why my heart was beating so fast.

“You’ll see. I’m never wrong, especially when it comes to you.”

I bowed my head. “You don’t even know me,” I whispered under my breath.

He grabbed my chin, making me look up at him.

Smiling, he argued, “I know how to make you come. The rest is irrelevant for now.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Juliet

“Get on the bed.”

He sensed my apprehension.

“Juliet…” he cautioned before I slowly walked toward the mattress and sat on the edge.

“Remove the towel.”

I peeked up at him through my lashes to find his eyes still remained dark and callous. Throwing the towel at his feet, he smirked at my attempt to be rebellious. His Adam’s apple moved, walking over to me, each footstep deliberately calculated and precise. He kneeled down to my level, sitting on the soles of his shoes before grabbing my chin, settling it to look directly at him.

“Spread your legs, pet.”

“What?” I asked in confusion, sheer terror, my voice caught in my throat almost like my body was rebelling against his demands.

“You heard me.”

“I-I-I-I…”

“I-I-I…” he mocked in an agitated tone, both infuriating me and making me want to cry.

“Why must you defy me? That pride of yours isn’t doing anything other than making me hurt you. But maybe that what’s you what … for me to hurt you?”

I fervently shook my head; he was insane. “That’s absurd. Why would I want you to hurt me?”

“Then prove me wrong, Juliet. Be a good girl and spread your legs for me. Unless you want me to force you?”

When I didn’t move fast enough, he slapped my thigh. There would be a handprint where he’d struck me, I knew it—like he was marking me everywhere.

“Now!”

I jumped, shaking. “Please…”

“Please what, pet?”

“Please don’t make me do this.”

“You’re sadly mistaken if you think for one second that I care about what you want. You either spread your legs for me, or I’ll spread them for you. The choice is once again yours. Choose wisely because, with the way I’m feeling, I’ll have no mercy on you.”

“Why are you doing this to me? What do you want? Is it money?”

He scoffed out a snide chuckle, letting go of my chin to lean back and sit on the balls of his feet.

“Take a good look around. Does it look like I need money?”

“Then what is it? I don’t understand. Just please make me understand. You at least owe me that.”

He narrowed his devious eyes at me, making me shiver from the expression on his face. I was fully aware I was pushing his limits, but I couldn’t help it. I was a fucking Sinacore. It was in my blood. It was how I was made. I wasn’t used to cowering down to anyone. My family would be so unbelievably disappointed in me. The shame of just thinking about what my father and brother would say seeing me like this…

Naked on a bed.

With a sadistic son of a bitch ordering me to spread my legs.

I could never tell them.

But I could at least know in my soul that I fought, that I tried to become more than the monster in front of me, that while he was making demands, confusing me, dominating me, I could make my own plans—revenge.

“I don’t owe you one damn thing, pet. It’s best if you recognize that.”

I wanted to scream.

Fight.

Kill him.

Not one part of me wanted to spread my legs for his amusement.

“If I do, then what? What happens after that?”

He probably knew I was buying time, but it was all I had. My questions, and it was, unfortunately, the one thing that truly pissed him off.

“Spread your fucking legs, and you’ll find out.”

This was where I truly lost my shit. I had nothing left to lose, nothing to gain.

“Fuck you!”

He growled from deep within his chest and lunged at me.

Instantly, I shouted, “I’m sorry!”

It didn’t matter. I knew it wouldn’t. Although, it didn’t stop me from repeating it over and over like a mantra, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He roughly shoved me back onto the bed with his hand over my neck. I thought he was going to choke me, hit me, hurt me in ways I never thought possible.

I wasn’t wrong.

He was going to hurt me, just not in the way I imagined.

My hands instinctively went to his sharp hold over my neck.

“Please! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!”

“You aren’t”—he leaned forward close to my ear—“but you will be.”