He could use, restrain, and torture me—but he couldn’t act like he cared. Not now. Not when those cartoon hearts threatened to rain down on me in the shape of bricks. Chest burning, I got to my feet and stormed to the bathroom, throwing open the door. Head bowed, Ronan stood in the shower, the water running red rivulets down his naked body. “I know you’re trying to protect my feelings,” I snapped. “And I think it’s disgusting.” Slowly, he cast me a dark look. I was dealing with D’yavol now. Good. He held onto his gray tightly—as well as his response when he wasn’t interested enough to reply. His expression made me feel unwelcome, so I continued. “You’re truly the worst kidnapper I’ve ever met.” His eyes flashed before he looked away to continue washing off the priest’s blood on his chest. “Coming from the girl who gives all captives a bad name. Spreading your sunshine all over my house, apologizing every step of the way. Let’s not forget the part where you came to your kidnapper’s room and begged him to fuck you. At least you’re not a cliché.” Heat washed up my back. “It’s called Stockholm syndrome. What’s your excuse? Mobster Decency Disorder?” Teeth clenched, his narrowed gaze returned to me. “Is Stockholm syndrome responsible for the lapse of memory you’re fucking engaged?” “Technically, I’m not engaged. And it’s not as if it came up organically.” His eyes were dark pools. “Technically meaning yet.” I was the one who was supposed to be angry, and now he was? For what? I doubted his noble conscience would fault sleeping with a nearly engaged woman. The thought of him having protested out of pure honor if he knew was almost comical, but I didn’t have any humor left inside me. Pd given this man my virginity and multiple other firsts. Didn’t he know he would haunt me forever? Apparently, it wasn’t enough for him. He had to control me from afar, guaranteeing I’d never forget or replace him while he moved on with others like Nadia. The idea roiled in my stomach, making me nauseous. Ronan would forget me eventually. And that felt like the biggest rejection of all, searing the very core of my heart. Stinging pride was what forced the next words out.