Ipushed the scrambled eggs around my plate, trying to pretend Dante wasn’t sitting across the table from me. It was easier now that he’d finished his own breakfast and retreated behind his newspaper. My composed mask was nearly perfect, only the slightest tension around my mouth straining the serene smile. It’d taken more willpower than I’d known I possessed, but I’d managed to hold myself together for nearly an hour so far this morning, ever since I’d awakened to find myself in his bed, caged in his confining embrace.

I’d nearly railed at Dante when he’d shown me the scraps of lace that he expected me to wear for him: lingerie and silken robes that were so scandalous I would feel less exposed if I were completely naked. The garments were clearly expensive but unbearably lewd. He was dressing me up like a sex doll, his little toy.

Or worse, his pet. He’d called me that several times last night, especially when he’d bathed me, washing the dirt from my skin. I’d been too numb with shock and revulsion to respond in any way. True to his word, he hadn’t forced himself on me or seen to his own physical pleasure.

Although the sick delight in his eyes was far more disturbing than simple lustful release.

I dared to peek up at him through lowered lashes and huffed the tiniest sigh of relief to see only the open newspaper facing me, completely obscuring his cruelly beautiful features. I straightened my posture and cut my sausage into even smaller pieces, making the food look like I’d picked at it.

As I took calming, steady breaths, I sank deeper into my poise and composure, letting it settle over me like protective armor. If Dante wanted a pretty doll, I would give him one. He wouldn’t break me down again. If he tried to play with me, I would simply refuse to rise to his bait. He couldn’t eviscerate me if I didn’t give him access to my true self.

“You’re not eating.” The newspaper rustled and dropped away. His vibrant eyes skewered me, spearing straight through my elegant mask.

I blinked and forced my lips to remain pleasantly curved, my gaze soft and demure. “I’m not very hungry this morning.”

His brows drew together, forbidding. “I don’t care if you’re not hungry. You will eat.”

Indignation sparked, and unease stirred in my gut. I struggled to remain nonchalant and speared the smallest scrap of scrambled eggs onto my fork. I expected him to go back to his paper, but his attention remained fixed on me as I consumed the tiny morsel. It felt like rubber between my teeth, and I almost gagged as I choked it down.