"Where is Mercedes?"
Antonia startles, nearly dropping the tray in her hands as I intercept her in the kitchen. She's staring at me like she's seeing a ghost, and I'm consciously aware of the fact that it's morning, and I'm in one of the few well-lit areas of The Manor. But vanity doesn't have a space in my thoughts right now.
"She hasn't come home yet," she answers quietly. "Would you like me to call for you when she arrives?"
"Yes."
She hesitates as if there is something else she wants to say but isn't quite sure how.
"What is it, Antonia?"
"Will you be awake?"
There's a kindness in her tone that makes me falter, and I can't comprehend it. How can this old woman stare down the vulgar beast in front of her and find even an ounce of softness in her heart?
"I don’t have intentions on resting anytime soon," I inform her. "But should I fall asleep, bring Marco with you to wake me. Just to be safe."
She nods, offering a small smile. "Can I get you something to eat?"
"Not right now, thank you." I shift uncomfortably. "Has Mrs. De La Rosa... has Ivy eaten her breakfast already?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you, Antonia. That is all."
I turn and take my leave, stalking down the corridor and up the stairs to Ivy's bedroom. When I open the door, a small gasp flies from her lips, and she wears the same startled expression to find me lurking about at this hour.
"Santiago?" Her voice is tinged with concern as she tries to uncover the meaning behind the stormy expression on my face.
"I need to know now." I shut the door behind me, securing me inside the room with her.
Her eyes dart to the walled-off escape and then over my body. She looks as if she's trying to determine her options but accepts there are none left.
"What do you need to know?" she asks carefully.
"I need the name of your accomplice," I growl, stepping toward her. "Who gave you the poison, Ivy?"
She sucks in a sharp breath and shakes her head. "I can't give you a name because I wasn't the woman who poisoned you."
The wording of her declaration confuses and infuriates me.
"This isn't a game." I seize her by the arms and drag her up, pinching her face in my grasp. "You will tell me, or they will kill you. It's that simple, Ivy. Surely, even a fucking Moreno can comprehend that much."
"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid." She presses her palms against my chest, trying to shove me off. "You're the one so blinded by your hatred for my family you can't comprehend the only logical conclusion, which is that I'm telling you the truth."
"The truth?" I echo her words darkly. "What truth should I find in the constant stream of lies you have spewed since you walked into this house?"
"It wasn't me!" she yells, shoving with all her might.
I grab her arms and pin them behind her back, walking her backward until she hits the wall. The breath leaves her lungs in a grunt as we collide, and despite the fury surging through my body, I am so hard for her I just want to fuck the confession out of her.
"Tell me." I wrap my icy fingers around her throat and squeeze. "Who gave you the poison?"
"Nobody," she snaps. "Because it wasn't me!"
"Goddammit." My lips hover over hers, breath fanning against her skin. "They will kill you if we don’t give them a name. What part of that don't you understand? There is no alternative. You give up the traitor to save yourself. That's the only way this will play out."
"I can't." She wheezes, straining against my grasp. "So, torture me all you want, but I can't give you what I don't know."
"Was it Chambers?" I demand.
"Chambers?" she repeats, eyes narrowing. "Do you really think I would be in on something with that sick fuck? You know what he did to me."
"Colette then.”
This she laughs at.
"God, sometimes you really can be incredibly paranoid. Do you even realize that?"
The last accusation leaves my lips on a choked whisper. "Mercedes?"
Her face sombers, and my fingers fall from her throat as she peers up at me with a sadness I don't understand.
"It must be so lonely," she answers softly. "To hold such little faith in the people around you. To see everyone as an enemy. Even your own blood."
"Tell me." My voice fractures as I press against her.
Ivy manages to pull one hand free from behind her. Instead of using it to claw or fight, she reaches up to stroke my face. The scars I have no doubt she can see clearly beneath the ink.
"Don't," I warn her, but I'm not stopping her, even as I say it.
My eyes fall shut, and I let her touch me, telling myself I will end it. One more second, and I will end it. But I don't. She studies me with her fingers, smoothing over the rough, taut skin, tracing the lines of the skull.
"You aren't as much of a monster as you think," she whispers.
My eyes open, cold and hard as I grab her hand and force it away. "I know what you're doing."
"You always do." She smiles up at me sadly. "You always know what everyone is doing, though. They are all full of evil intent. Lies and shady motives. Isn't that right, Santiago? Nobody can be trusted. Not even your own sister apparently."
"Did she give you the lipstick or not?" I demand.
"Of course she did." Ivy sighs. "But it doesn't matter that she gave it to me because that woman in the footage was someone else. Someone dressed just like me. Someone who wanted to look like me that night."
"Convenient," I mutter. "But not even remotely believable."
"God, you are such an—"
I cut her off with a violent kiss, arching her head back to devour her mouth. Ivy freezes momentarily but then surprises me when she starts to devour me too. We are two rabid creatures, clawing at each other with staged hatred but desperate for more of this toxic attraction between us.
I nip at her lip and draw blood, and she digs her nails into my arms, moaning softly as I savor the copper crimson on my tongue. I'm hoisting her into my arms, and she's wrapping her legs around me as I carry her to the bed. I can't get her naked fast enough. Buttons are scattering, cloth ripping as I work to free her of the barrier to the sweetness of her flesh.
Her tongue is in my mouth, tasting me as I spread her over the mattress and mount her. She's struggling with the zipper on my trousers, and I pause briefly just to watch as she grunts in frustration, desperate for my cock. I've never been so hard in my life as I am when she finally gets it free and strokes me in her palm.
"Take me because you like it," she pleads, her eyes meeting mine. "Not because you need a baby. Not for any other reason. Just because you like it."
I indulge her, the notion of babies a distant thought in my mind as I resume control and settle my body against hers, thrusting between her legs. She arches into me, fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt to press against the skin on my back. I let her have it. Just this once. The same thing every addict tells themself.
Tongues and teeth and hips collide as we come together. I fuck her into the mattress, and she hangs on as if her life depends on it, groaning out my name when she shatters around me. A muttered curse leaves my lips, and it's my undoing. I'm coming inside her. Spilling all of my frustrations in the pulsing throb of my cock, emptying within her for the sole purpose of exactly what she said.
Because I like it.
My head dips against hers as I collapse onto my forearms, catching my breath. I'm trying to think of a way to destroy this sickness between us when a knock sounds at the door.
Ivy blinks up at me, eyes heavy and face glowing. So fucking beautiful. Why does she have to look this way? Such a beautiful little liar.
The knock comes again, and I growl.
"What is it?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," Marco answers. "But there are guests waiting for you downstairs. Jackson and Colette Van der Smit. He asked to speak with both of you."
A gust of air leaves Ivy's lips as she looks up at me pleadingly. "Can we talk to them? Please?"
I pull out of her, watching my come leak down her thighs with satisfaction. For now, I suppose the interrogation will have to wait.
"Get dressed."