The partition was up.
The back of the sedan was a sealed capsule of leather and silence.
Ivy sat on the edge of the seat. Her hands were folded in her lap, but her fingers were tapping a rhythmic, agitated beat against her knuckles.
Bruno took a cigar from a silver case built into the armrest. He clipped the end with a precise, metallic snip. The sound was loud in the quiet car. He lit it, and the smell of expensive tobacco filled the air, replacing the oxygen.
"Seen enough?" he asked. Smoke curled from his lips. "Now you can go back to being the dutiful little bride."
Ivy turned her head. She looked at him. Really looked at him.
He was a monster. Everyone said so. He had destroyed companies, ruined lives, and supposedly killed to get where he was.
But he was powerful. And right now, he was the only weapon she could reach.
"Why did you show me that?" she asked.
Bruno shrugged. "Entertainment."
He viewed her life as a sitcom. A tragedy for his amusement.
Ivy felt a cold clarity wash over her. If she was a toy, she would be the one that broke the other toys.
She reached for the top button of the white shirt.
Bruno's hand paused halfway to his mouth. His eyes flicked down, then back up to her face. They narrowed.
Ivy undid the first button. Then the second.
The fabric fell open slightly, revealing the curve of her collarbone. A dark, purple bruise bloomed there-a hickey. His mark.
She shifted on the seat, turning her body toward him. She moved off the seat and onto her knees on the floor of the car, between his legs.
"Let's play a different game," Ivy said. Her voice was raspy.
Bruno reached out. He grabbed her chin, his fingers digging into her jaw. He tilted her face up.
"You want to seduce me? To get back at Clive?"
Ivy didn't blink. "Clive cares about two things: his reputation and his inheritance. Imagine what would happen if he found out his perfect, boring fiancée was warming his uncle's bed."
Bruno laughed. It was a dark, low sound. "You're playing with fire, Ivy."
Ivy took his hand from her chin and pressed it against her cheek. She leaned into the roughness of his palm.
"I'm already in hell," she whispered. "I don't care if the fire gets bigger."
The air in the car changed. It became heavy. Charged.
Bruno looked at her. He wasn't looking at a victim anymore. He was looking at a potential accomplice. Or maybe just a more interesting diversion.
He crushed the lit cigar into the ashtray. Sparks flew and died.
He grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her forward.
"You want to be my mistress?" he asked.
"My ally," Ivy corrected. "I want Clive to bleed. You want to watch the world burn. We don't have a conflict of interest."
Bruno smirked. "Allies need equal leverage. What do you have?"
Ivy leaned forward. She pressed her lips against the pulse point of his throat. She felt his heart beating there. Steady. Powerful.
"I have the ability to make sure you're never bored," she breathed against his skin.
It was a lie. A desperate gamble. But it was the only card she had.
Bruno's hand tightened in her hair. He pulled her head back, forcing her to look at him.
"Prove it."
He kissed her. It wasn't like the night before. It was possessive. It was a contract being signed in saliva and breath.
Ivy responded with everything she had. She poured her rage, her fear, and her desperation into the kiss.
His hands roamed over the shirt, finding the skin beneath. The car seemed to shrink, the world outside ceasing to exist.
Then, a sound shattered the moment.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
It was a generic, cheerful melody. Ivy's phone.
She froze. Bruno didn't stop. His mouth moved to her neck, biting down on the sensitive cord of muscle there.
Ivy scrambled for her purse, which was on the floor. She pulled out the phone.
The screen flashed a name: CLIVE.
Ivy stared at it. Her stomach dropped.
Bruno pulled back slightly. He saw the name.
His eyes glinted with malicious delight.
"Answer it," he commanded.
Ivy shook her head. "I can't."
"Answer it," Bruno repeated. He moved his hand lower, sliding it up her thigh. "Put it on speaker."
