I wanted to punch something, I felt so ashamed of myself. The guilt clawed at my insides like a wild animal, unrelenting, suffocating. I sighed, staring blankly at the dark ceiling above. It was already night anyway, I might as well try to sleep and let my guilt and shame eat me alive like vultures tearing at a carcass.
What the hell was wrong with me? I should have pushed him off, screamed, slapped him, kicked him—anything. But I didn’t. I just stood there, frozen, lips pressed against his, letting it happen. Because I’m an idiot. Because my mind went blank, and my body betrayed me.
I blame Matteo for all of this.
If he hadn’t stalked me, kidnapped me, and brought me into this twisted, luxurious prison, I wouldn’t even be in such a situation. I wouldn’t have been sitting in a room playing truth or dare with two DeLuca bastards who clearly got their kicks from messing with me.