Page 92 of The Devil of Downtown

“It doesn’t concern you. Leave me alone.”

Up ahead, I spot a cab, headlights sweeping the curb, and make a beeline towards it.

I quicken my pace, practically jogging now. My hand closes around the door handle just as Dane’s fingers clamp around my arm. In one pull, he spins me toward him.

“You’re not going anywhere alone,” he snaps. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“No,” I fire back. “I’ll take a cab.”

I try to yank my arm free, but his grip doesn’t budge.

“You’re not taking a cab.”

Before I can respond, the cab driver leans across the passenger seat and calls out the window, bored and impatient, “You getting in or not?”

“Yes,” I say.

“No,” Dane says at the exact same moment.

The driver stares between us, rolls his eyes like he’s seen this a thousand times, then shrugs and pulls away from the curb.

“Goddammit,” I blow out in frustration as the cab disappears. “Why are you even here?”

I try to turn away again, eyes fixed anywhere but on him. If I meet his gaze now—if I let myself fall into it—my resolve will crack right down the middle.

“Look at me, Ivy,” Dane growls.

I don’t. I keep my chin angled down, my face turned away, pretending I don’t feel the heat pulsing through me at his touch.

His fingers close under my chin. Not rough, but firm enough to leave me no choice. He tips my face up toward his, forcing my eyes to his.

The streetlight catches the edge of his jaw, highlighting the wild, unfiltered fury in his eyes.

“Is that why you were ignoring me all day?” he asks, voice low. “Because ofhim?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” I shoot back.

His jaw clenches, something dark flashing across his expression.

“Yes, Ivy,” he says, stepping in closer, “it fucking does.”

Something in me snaps, and I wrench out of his grip, chin raised, staring him down with the same fire glaring back at me.

“Why?” I spit, sarcasm coating every syllable. “Because of the deal? Because you get to fuck me whenever you feel like it, but parade Leandra on your arm to the entire world? Haven’t you gotten what you wanted yet? You still want more, is that it? How long until you decide you’ve put me back in my place.”

“No, Ivy, that is not what this is...” he begins, but I barrel over him.

“You think I know nothing about you?” My heartbeat hammers against my ribs. “But here’s one thing I’ve learned: you’re not the kind of lowlife who’d fire Sloane because of me. So screw you and screw this deal, I’m done.”

For a moment, he just looks at me, really looks.

And something in his gaze softens—not much, but enough to make my defenses slip.

He drags a hand over his stubble, exhaling once before his fingers brush my jaw, warm and impossibly gentle compared to a moment ago.

“Can’t you see, Ivy,” he murmurs, “it was just an excuse.”

My brows pull together. “An excuse?”