15

FALLON “Alright,” I whisper, surrendering to his monstrous demand. My hands work mechanically, unbuttoning my blouse with shaking fingers. The silk slides from my shoulders, and I drop it at my feet. “Good girl,” Leone murmurs, his eyes tracking every movement with ravenous attention. My skirt is next, the zipper parting with a hiss. It pools around my ankles, and I step out of it, feeling the cool kiss of the basement air against my skin, goosebumps marching across my flesh like an army of revulsion. I toe off my flats, push them aside, and look at Leone; his gaze takes in every inch of me. “Everything,” he says when his eyes move to my bra and underwear. “Please, how can I cheat in a bra and underwear?” I beg, wishing my willpower alone could halt this perverse performance. But the show continues—Leone’s show—and my body is the unwilling star. “Keep going,” he instructs, motioning with the gun—a weapon that holds more power than just the promise of death; it holds me hostage, and he