The Devil's Collateral

Chapter 04 : Only You

The sun had already risen.

Odette was still buried in her sheets the first real sleep she'd had in three days. She was deep in it when the knock came.

She stirred, eyes barely open, and shuffled to the door. Marcello stood in the hallway with a faint smile.

"Good morning, Miss Odette. Breakfast is ready or would you prefer to shower first?"

She blinked. "Shower first. I'll come down after."

Marcello gave a small nod. "Of course though I wouldn't take too long. Mr. Dante is already at the table, and there's something he needs to go over with you."

"Alright." She closed the door.

She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, just sitting with it.

It was almost bearable, she thought Dante hadn't done anything yet to make her feel in danger. That counted for something. She held onto it loosely, the way you hold onto something you know might not last.

But underneath that, the weight was still there. A person used as payment. She turned the thought over slowly, pressing on it the way you'd press a bruise.

This is what I'm worth to them.

She got up and headed to the shower.

***

Downstairs, Marcello returned to the dining room and took his place beside Dante, who sat at the head of the table with a cup of coffee.

"Miss Odette is showering first. She'll be down shortly."

"Fine." Dante took a slow sip. "Eat, Marcello. I'm sending you to Milan today keep an eye on things there for a while."

Marcello nodded and settle into the chair to Dante's left. Breakfast was placed in front of him.

Footsteps on the stairs.

They both knew without looking.

Odette came in, pulled out the chair to Dante's right, and sat. Food was set before her almost immediately.

"We'll be married next month," Dante said, not looking up from his plate. "Is there anything you want for the wedding?"

Odette looked at him sharply. "Can't we just not?."

"It's in the agreement. Did you hit your head?."

The words landed like a slap. Odette's jaw tightened, something hot rising in her chest. "I'm not marrying you. There are plenty of women in your world I don't care who, just why does it have to be me?. "

A beat of silence.

Marcello quietly set down his napkin, pushed back his chair, and left without a word.

Dante exhaled rough, short.

"They used you to settle their debt. That's the consequence. You don't have to like it." His voice was flat. Final.

"But you don't get to walk away from it."

"Then why not just kill me?" Odette said. "Honestly it would be easier—"

The knife was at her throat before she finished the sentence. Odette went completely still. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her pupils contracted.

Dante's eyes were cold and very close.

"Watch what comes out of your mouth. You talk like you're ready to die but you're not. So don't."

She held his gaze and said nothing.

He pulled the knife back and set it down on his plate like nothing had happened.

"You absolute" Odette's voice came out shaking, then sharpened.

"What kind of person does that?! How many women have you married, huh?! How many?!"

"Just you."

She stared at him.

Her hand moved to her throat without thinking, rubbing at the skin. She shoved her chair back and stood.

"Sit down."

"No." Her voice cracked at the edges.

"Don't hold your breath waiting for me to follow your orders." She turned to leave.

Dante stood so fast his chair scraped back and nearly fell. His hand caught her wrist not gently.

"Rule at this table." His jaw was tight. His voice was low and controlled in a way that was somehow worse than shouting.

"Whatever is served gets finished. You don't leave while there's still food on the table."

His eyes held hers.

"I've been patient because you're a woman. But I'm starting to think that was a mistake."

The smirk that followed made her skin crawl.

Then his mouth was on hers hard, no warning, no room to pull back.The force of it knocked the breath from her lungs.

When he finally broke away, he dragged her into the living room. She barely had time to find her footing before he pushed her back onto the sofa, his weight pinning her down, both of her wrists trapped above her head in one hand.

"Get off me—"

"No."

He kissed her again rougher this time, his right hand closing around her throat, not squeezing, just there a reminder of exactly how much larger he was, how completely she was pinned.

Odette bit down on his lip.

Hard.

"—Hk—" He jerked back. Blood welled up immediately. She felt the loosening of his grip and twisted.

He didn't let go.

He ran his tongue across his lip, tasting the blood, and looked at her with something that wasn't quite anger. "You like it rough."

It wasn't a question.

She turned her face away. He moved to her neck instead —his mouth dragging across her skin before he bit down, deliberately, and sucked until the mark bloomed dark against her throat.

His.

The word settled behind his eyes as he looked at it.

Odette had stopped fighting.

Not surrender her body had simply run out. Three days without sleep, barely any food, and now this.

There was nothing left in reserve. Her chest rose and fell in uneven pulls, her jaw still locked, her eyes still hard.

Still defiant. Just out of body to back it up.

Dante felt the shift.

He lifted his head and looked at her really looked, from inches away. Her eyes weren't wet. She wasn't begging. She was staring straight back at him with her teeth pressed together and her breath coming apart at the seams.

Fighting him with the only thing she had left.

He released her wrists. Slowly. Sat back.

Odette pulled her hands to her chest immediately a reflex, protecting herself eyes tracking him without blinking.

"Finish your breakfast," Dante said. His voice had returned to its usual flatness. "You need to eat."

"Don't pretend you care."

"I don't pretend anything." He moved toward the door. "I just don't want my wife passing out before the wedding."

Wife.

The word dropped into the space between them like a stone into still water.

Odette's hands curled into fists at her sides.

"I hate you," she said quietly.

Dante paused in the doorway. Didn't turn around.

"I know," he said.

And left.

Odette was alone in the living room.

She sat on the sofa, knees pulled to her chest, fingers brushing her neck feeling what Dante had left there. Warm. Real.

I hate this place, she thought. I hate him. I hate all of it. But underneath all that hatred buried deep, in a place she refused to acknowledge a single question had begun to grow without permission.

Why did he say just me?

Odette shook her head. Hard. Stood up. Walked back to the dining table.

And finished her breakfast not because Dante told her to.

But because she was hungry.