“He’ll require more than that,” I said, lashing her again. “And forgive me, but so will I.”

I whipped her hard, knowing I had to, wanting to beat her for her stupidity, her inability to keep one fucking promise. Knowing if I didn’t, he would. Or, worse, he’d let Dominic do it while I watched.

It took nearly thirty strokes, her screams becoming hoarse as she wept, lashing my heart as I lashed her flesh, hating myself, hating her for making me do this. Hating him, hating my father for his power over me. For the power I allowed him to have.

I only stopped when the quiet on the other side of the door grew into a soft murmur and the sound of silverware on dishes told me cake had been served. The vultures had been sated or perhaps had grown bored. I hated them all, but hated myself most of all.

When I lifted my hand from her back, she remained as she was, bent over the table, her dress hiked up to her waist, her ass bare. I adjusted the crotch of my pants before sliding the belt through the loops and buckling it. Red welts crisscrossed her ass and thighs, and when I placed the flat of a palm over her hip, heat throbbed against my hand.

I squeezed.

She mewled.

I picked up her panties and pocketed them before lifting her to stand. The skirt of her dress dropped to her ankles, covering her. I turned her to face me and held her tight to me as she wept into my chest, fists pounding against me. Hiccups interrupted her sobs, and I lifted her into my arms and, ignoring the stares of the waitstaff as I carried her up to our room from the server’s stairs, I locked the bedroom door behind us. I sat on the bed, cradling her in my lap, refusing to let her go even as she fought me.

“I warned you.”

She pounded her fists into my chest, trying to free herself, tears streaking her face black with mascara.

“You liked it!” she screamed as the evidence of my arousal stabbed her hip.

“I didn’t like hurting you.”

“You’re hard, you prick! You liked it just fine!”

“I can’t deny the fact I’m aroused.” One corner of my mouth quirked upward. “But you deserved that one.”

“I hate you!” She clawed her fingernails down the side of my face.

I flipped her onto the bed, gripped her wrists and spread them wide, straddling her hips. “I fucking warned you. You have only yourself to blame!”

“They all heard!”

“That was the point. Humiliation. You’re lucky he didn’t demand the doors stay open!” During her struggle, her dress had shifted, exposing one breast.

“Let me go! Don’t look at me!”