She balled her fists at her sides. “Answer me, you asshole! If you won’t leave, then at least answer my fucking questions! Why are you still here? Why did you do all that stuff for my mom, then bring me back here to torture me?”

Victor regarded her for a cold beat. Then he reminded her and himself, “I am your owner for four more months. I can do whatever I want. And I do not have to explain it to you.”

Dawn stared back at him, her expression enraged.

“All you do is mess with me!” she yelled, shoving him in the chest. Once, twice, three times. Not that it mattered. He didn’t move an inch. “You ruin everything, including my thesis presentation, which I can’t even attend because it’s on May 25th. So, of course, you’re not going to let me get my MFA. Because no matter how nice you were to my mother, you suck now, like, on a base level. I hate this! And I hate you!”

Good. Her shove had barely registered. And it delighted him to see her so frustrated.

She was so angry that she fisted her braids at each side of her head and walked away in the opposite direction. As if she might explode with anger if she continued to look at him.

He wanted her to hate him. Wanted her to rail against the things he did to her, not appreciate them and even thank him as she had over the weekend. That was what this was all about, he reminded himself. Punishing her. Making her hurt. What happened in Texas changed nothing about his original mission.

“I hate you so much! Ugh! Hate, hate, hate you!” she screamed with her back to him.

Then she surprised Victor by suddenly turning around and rushing toward him, her expression twisted with violent rage.

He made no move to defend himself. Her angry shoves had felt like little more than pats against his chest earlier. And it amused him that she would even attempt to engage him in physical combat.

So he let her come, allowed her to get in her pitiful hits.

But she didn’t hit him. At least not on the chest.

Her lips banged into his. And she attacked his closed mouth, licking and biting. Then she snaked a hand around his neck, her fingernails digging into the skin there like an animal who refused to let her prey get away.

Kissing….

She was kissing him.

For Victor, it was the equivalent of her striking a match. And setting him ablaze.

His cold resolve melted in mere seconds under that kiss. And soon, it wasn’t just her kissing him. He was kissing her back.