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CHAPTER FOUR:

His hand is still on my thigh when it starts moving higher.

I grab his wrist, stopping him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like?" His fingers slide another inch up, pushing the dress hem with them.

"Stop..."

"I could take you right here and now," he murmurs, voice low enough that the driver can't hear. "Make you come multiple times. No one would even know."

My face burns. "We're in a car, Mr. De León."

"And that's not a barrier." His hand squeezes my inner thigh. "Especially when I know you have nothing underneath."

"That's because you didn't give me anything underneath!"

He smirks, then reaches beside him and produces a red gift box tied with a black ribbon.

"That's a gift for you." He sets it in my lap. "Use it now."

I stare at the box like it might explode. Slowly, I pull the ribbon loose and lift the lid.

Inside is black lace panties.

With a vibrator built into them.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, I am." His smirk deepens. "That's what I want you to wear."

"I won't."

"You have no choice, querida." He leans closer. "Unless you want me to force you myself. You know how that ended last time."

The memory of being pinned to the bed makes my stomach flip.

I glare at him. "Look away."

He actually laughs but shifts slightly, turning his gaze toward the window.

I shimmy the panties on as quickly as possible under the dress, my face burning the entire time. The vibrator settles against me, foreign and invasive.

The second I'm done, he turns back and plucks something from the box, a small remote control.

"Let's see if it works," he says casually.

"Don't you dare..."

He presses the button.

The vibration hits without warning.

"Ah!" I gasp, grabbing the seat to steady myself. My thighs clamp together instinctively. I bite my lip hard, trying to stop any more sounds from escaping.

The sensation is intense. Relentless. Right where I'm most sensitive.

"Please..." I'm gasping now, unable to form full sentences. "Stop..."

He watches me for a long moment, eyes dark with satisfaction, then clicks it off.

The sudden absence leaves me trembling.

"That's more like it," he murmurs, pocketing the remote.

I slump against the seat, trying to catch my breath. My entire body is on fire.

"I hate you," I whisper.

"Sí, ya lo sé." Yes, I know. "You've mentioned that."

The car glides to a stop in front of an enormous estate. Even larger than his house.

The driver opens the door. De León steps out first, then offers his hand.

I ignore it and climb out on my own, wobbling slightly in the heels.

The circular driveway is packed with luxury vehicles. Bentleys. Rolls-Royces. More Ferraris. This isn't just rich, this is obscene wealth.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"The Velasquez estate." He adjusts his cufflinks. "We'll have dinner first, before the auction begins."

"I'm not hungry."

"You'll eat anyway." His hand settles possessively on my waist, pulling me against his side. He leans down, lips brushing my ear. "Be a good girl, little one. You know what happens when you're not."

His other hand pats his pocket. Where the remote is.

My stomach drops.

The double doors open as we approach, revealing a grand foyer and beyond it, a formal dining room with a table that seats at least twenty people.

The moment Dante enters, every conversation stops.

Just... stops.

Like someone hit pause on the entire room. Every head turns. Every eye fixes on him.

He doesn't just have power, I realize. He is power here.

He walks to the head of the table like it's his rightful place. Pulls out the chair beside him for me.

I sit because refusing would draw more attention.

Servers appear immediately with wine, appetizers. The other guests, older men in expensive suits, women dripping in diamonds, slowly resume their conversations, but I can feel them watching us.

Watching me.

"Mr. De León." An older man with silver hair speaks up from across the table. "I see you have someone with you this evening."

His expression doesn't change. He looks at the man with that cold, dead stare. "Yes. She is my fiancée."

I nearly choke on air.

Fiancée?!

I whip my head toward him, but he's still staring at the other man. Face completely neutral.

"My, my!" A woman in red, dripping with rubies, clasps her hands together. "The De León family will be celebrating a wedding soon, then?"

Polite smiles around the table. But I can see the fear underneath. The careful neutrality.

These people are terrified of him.

"Perhaps," he says simply.

The woman turns to me, smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Well, tell us about yourself, dear. What's your name?"

I open my mouth to answer...

The vibration starts.

"Ahh..." The gasp tears out of me before I can stop it.

My hands fly to the edge of the table, gripping it hard enough that my knuckles go white. The sensation between my legs is immediate, intense, relentless.

"Miss?" The woman frowns. "Are you alright?"

I can't answer. If I open my mouth, I won't be able to form words. I'll moan.

I bite down on my lip so hard I taste blood. My eyes water from the effort of holding back.

De León's hand finds mine under the table. Squeezes.

"She's fine," he says smoothly. "Just a bit overwhelmed. This is her first time at one of these gatherings."

"I see." The woman doesn't look convinced.

The vibration continues. I shift in my seat, trying to find some relief. There is none.

My thighs clench together. My breathing comes in short gasps that I'm desperately trying to disguise as normal breaths.

Everyone is staring at me now.

"Your name, dear?" Another woman prompts gently.

I can't. I can't speak. If I do...

His thumb strokes over my knuckles. "Her name is Elena," he supplies. "Elena Reeves. Soon to be Elena De León."

I'm going to kill him.

The table erupts in polite congratulations. Someone raises a toast. Wine glasses clink.

And through it all, the vibration continues.

I'm squirming in my seat now. Can't help it. My face is flushed, I know it is. My eyes are watering. I'm biting my lip so hard it might bleed more.

Every nerve ending in my body is screaming.

"Elena, you look flushed." The woman in red studies me with concern. "Are you feeling well?"

His hand tightens on mine. A warning.

Answer. Speak. Don't embarrass him.

"I..." My voice comes out strangled. "I'm f...fine. Just..." I have to stop, take a shaky breath. "Just nervous."

"Of course!" She smiles. "Your first time meeting everyone. How sweet."

Sweet. Right. If only they knew.

The vibration intensifies.

My eyes widen. I can't help it. My hand flies to his thigh under the table, nails digging in through the expensive fabric.

Please, I mouth at him. Please stop.

He leans close, lips brushing my ear under the guise of whispering something sweet.

"You're doing so well, pequeña loba," he murmurs. "Don't come. Not yet. Hold it."

Hold it?!

He sits back, perfectly composed, and lifts his wine glass. "To new beginnings," he announces to the table.

Everyone drinks.

I'm going to die. Right here at this dinner table, I'm going to die of humiliation and sexual frustration and...

The vibration stops.

I slump forward slightly, gasping. Sweat beads at my hairline.

"Elena?" The woman in red is standing now. "Dear, are you sure you're alright? You look quite flushed."

"She's fine," He says firmly. His hand slides to my thigh under the table. Squeezes. "Aren't you, mi amor?"

My love. He called me his love in front of all these people.

I force myself to straighten. To breathe normally. To look at these people who have no idea what just happened.

"Yes," I manage. My voice is hoarse. "I'm fine. Just... warm."

"Perhaps some water?" Someone suggests.

A server appears immediately with ice water. I drink half the glass in one go.

The conversation slowly shifts away from me. Back to business. Politics. Things I don't understand and can't focus on.

Because Dante's hand is still on my thigh.

And the remote is still in his pocket.

And dinner has only just begun.

I'm never going to survive this night.