Dante took a long sip of his drink before answering. "Then I'd have to punish you. But I'm hoping it won't come to that."
"Because you'd hate to kill me after spending ten million dollars?"
"Because" He set down his glass and moved closer, until he was standing right in front of me. "Despite everything, I find myself wanting you to survive this. To adapt. To maybe even thrive."
"Why?" I searched his face for any hint of softness, any crack in that icy exterior. "Why do you care?"
"I don't know." And for the first time since I'd met him, Dante Moretti looked uncertain.
"I've been asking myself the same question since I saw you on that stage. I should have let someone else buy you. Should have walked away. But something about you…" He reached out and touched my face, his fingers gentle despite the blood still staining his other hand. "Something about you makes me want to protect you. Even from myself."
