The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter fifteen.

"YOU SHOULD TRY the filet mignon. It's delicious." Dario lifts a bite of food up to his mouth and chews on it slowly.

I stare at him, my hand clamped around the knife handle beside my empty plate.

"You look lovely, Gabriella," he adds. "Red really is your color."

My fingers tighten. I imagine driving the knife into his eye—the brown one. Or maybe the blue. Perhaps both.

"You're not going to eat?" He sounds disappointed..

I swallow down the various insults that rest on the tip of my tongue and instead dish out some roasted vegetables onto my plate. I don't think I can stomach anything heavier right now.

"This house is beautiful," I note whilst forcing a slice of carrot into my mouth.

"It is. I bought it years ago from a family when I moved to America; they'd allowed it to fall into disrepair. I've started having it cleaned up, but it's slow progress. It's a large property, needs a lot of work."

I nod, dutiful and listening.

"You'll like it here. I know you will, darling."

Every muscle in me tenses. My hand stops midair, a speared piece of broccoli halfway to my mouth.

Sickness rises again, panic lapping at the edges of my mind. My hand lowers back down to the table.

"And how long do you intend to keep me here, exactly?" I ask, my voice steady but only with great effort.

His chewing slows slightly, but other than that he shows no outward signs of discomfort.

"As long as it takes for you to realize."

My eyebrows furrow. "Realize what?"

"That you belong with me."

My gaze darts over to the men guarding each entrance to this room. I need to get out of here...but I don't see a realistic escape point.

"With you...or to you?" I question.

He leans back in his chair, black suit jacket falling open slightly. "Can it not be both?"

I look down at my plate, letting my hair hide my face so he can't see the simmering rage.

There is a scraping sound—his chair against the hardwood floors—as he stands and walks slowly toward me, dragging one pointer finger along the dining table as he goes.

"Before this, you were a stripper, Gabi. I don't judge you for falling into that life; I'm sure at the time you felt like you had no other choice. But you have a choice now, and it is such a simple one. All you have to do is choose to be happy."

He stops beside me and reaches out, placing that same finger beneath my chin and tilting my head up till I am forced to meet his gaze. Does he see the burning hatred there? He doesn't seem to.