I wasn’t sure if Dominic slept that night. I don’t even remember getting upstairs and into bed after what happened in the dining room.

The scent of sex permeated my room. It was the first thing I smelled, his smell, my own, when I opened my eyes. I sat up in bed, rubbed my face, and picked up the loaded weapon.

I’d kill Victor Scava with this gun.

Then I’d kill Dominic with it.

He wanted me to. He’d asked me to. I finally understood him last night. I finally saw him. Really saw him. He’d been at odds all along, at once my cruel captor, then ally, then lover. I knew why now.

I got out of bed and walked through the door that connected our bedrooms. I didn’t care what I looked like, that I was naked, unwashed. That his cum had dried and crusted between my legs. I didn’t care.

I only cared about the gun in my hand.

Dominic walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped low around his waist, another in his hands, drying his hair.

“How long have you been hiding?” I asked.

He stopped and looked at me.

“You need a shower, Gia.”

He resumed walking, tossing the towel he used to dry his hair on the bed.

“How long?”

He stopped and turned to me, paused, then walked right up to me and cocked his head to the side.

“Get your facts straight before you walk around demanding answers with a gun in your hand.”

He easily wrapped his hand around the wrist that held the gun.

“You need a shower,” he said again.

“Can’t stand your own smell?”

His eyes narrowed, and he forced the weapon out of my hand.

“It’s mine!” I followed him to the dresser, trying to reach around him to get it when he opened a drawer and set it inside.

He caught my wrists and walked me backward a few steps.

“You need to keep your shit together, and you need to have a fucking shower.”

“It’s mine,” I said again, looking up into his eyes, blue-gray pools so deep, I could lose myself inside them if I wasn’t careful.

“I’m not taking it away. It’s yours. Come on.”

His voice was quiet, as if talking down a child throwing a tantrum.

He walked me into the bathroom and ran water into the tub. The first time he’d bathed me came rushing back, and I pulled away. But he kept hold of my wrist and held me there.

“Relax. Do you want me to give you something to relax?”

“Your little pills? No, thank you.”

“Then be a good girl and get in the tub.”

I glanced at the tub filling up with water, saw him check the temperature and adjust it.

“In.”

“I want this off too.” I pointed to the collar.