Faith pretended to be consumed with the task of swirling a steak fry in a giant glob of ketchup on her plate.

“I’ll speak to Angelo. He might agree to release you if I convince him you aren’t a threat to the family. And I’ll smooth things over with Uncle Sal so you won’t have to worry about him, either. To everyone else, I’ll say we broke off the engagement.”

Faith’s ring glittered in the kitchen light. Leo hadn’t insisted she wear it all the time, but she had. And every time he saw it on her hand, he became more convinced she wanted their engagement to be real.

But her happy ending came at a dark price… a price Leo felt increasingly guilty asking her to pay, no matter how much he wanted to keep her locked away in the glass room. If that night in the dungeon hadn’t happened, he could have eased her into his kinks slowly, conditioned her to want them… if for no other reason than her deep desire to please him.

But now… the gulf was too great.

“Do you want to leave, Faith?”

Her eyes stayed trained on her food. “I can’t leave, Master.”

“Why can’t you leave? If it’s money, I can give you money. I’ll set you up some place nice. I’ll pull a few strings and get you a good job.” He wanted to stuff every word out of his mouth back in.

“Do you want me to go?” she asked, chancing a glance up from her plate, searching his face for the answer.

“You know I don’t.”

“Then I won’t go.”

She’d killed his attraction to fear. But he needed to hear cries and whimpers and begging and see tears and hear cracks and smacks and watch red burst out over flesh. He needed it like a drug addict needed meth.

Even while he held Faith at night and wanted to protect her, he wanted to make her cry. He wanted her to cower and tremble at his feet, and he couldn’t simply wish that desire out of existence.

“Faith, you know what I’ll do to you. You’ve seen the things in the dungeon. Take your chance and go. For your own safety, please.”

He could make her go. He could take her out of here as easily as he’d brought her in.

Her jaw set in a determined line. “I’m not going.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not! Don’t make me say it.”

“Say it.” He’d seen all the signs. The way she’d looked at him before that night, and then again after Esmeralda had come. She had fallen for him and couldn’t make herself leave no matter the threat. Just like a battered wife. Just like Gemma with Emilio. He’d killed the bastard, now he was the bastard.

“I love you,” she whispered, tears falling off her face onto the table. “I wish Angelo had killed me.”

He knew this time she meant it. If he brought his brother in with a gun, she wouldn’t fight them again.