Katarina’s POV
“Fine,” I snapped. “You win. Teach me to be your whore.”
Silence.
Vittorio sat beside me, stone-faced. One hand rested on his knee, the other lazily holding a lit cigarette between his fingers. I wanted to slap it out of his hand. Or stab it into his neck.
But I didn’t care. I leaned back in the leather seat and let the words burn out of me.
“I’m tired,” I added, voice trembling on purpose, “Tired of running. Tired of fighting. You want obedience? Fine. I’ll dance. I’ll bow. I’ll be the good little doll you want.”
I sniffled. I even let a tear slide down.
Fake. All of it.
This was an act. A performance. Win his trust. Get close. Burn his empire from the inside out.
He didn’t answer. Just stared ahead, like he was watching clouds bleed.
I made my voice soft. Like I
