Gifts.
Of the female variety.
A lot of them.
He uncorked the wine, poured a half glass, and lifted it to his lips with a superior smirk before saying, “How much?”
I knew it was coming. He was always so fucking predictable.
The question itself wasn’t shocking at all; my reaction, however, was.
Stomach clenched, I took a calming breath and shrugged. “More than you can afford.”
“Impossible.”
“Is it, though?”
“Donovan…” He shook his head. “You know I’m good for it, so answer the damn question before you ruin my night—is this Castella wine?”
“Vintage,” I answered in a clipped tone. “Wasted on a bastard like you.”
“Cheers.” He winked. “And try not to sound so threatened, D. This is business, not pleasure,”
I flinched at that.
“Or is it pleasure? Is this … more than just a business arrangement? Is that why you’ve been with her longer than usual?” He set his glass down, then cracked his knuckles and stood. “I called earlier; your assistant said you were busy, so I assumed work. I came by twice, and both times you were busy. With her. We both know it takes a few hours tops. You leave, you come back, you leave, you fuck with their heads, and then you have the best product possible, but you…” He pointed, his smile firmly in place. “It hasn’t been a few hours, Donovan. I even heard you grabbed the cold cream.”
I scowled. “Every pet is different. You should know that. Oh wait…” I snapped my fingers. “You wouldn’t since you accidentally killed—”
“Shut the hell up,” he yelled. “We won’t speak of it. Ever.”
I shrugged, knowing I’d hit one of his buttons. “Whatever you say, Troy.”
His eyes narrowed. “Just admit that you’re keeping her or offer her up for sale. Your choice.”
“Nice.” I laughed mockingly. “Has anyone ever told you that your manipulation schemes need more polish?” I stood and stared out the large bay window as lights filled the night sky. “I won’t give her up today.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“What about next week?” I sighed. “It doesn’t matter because she’s one to keep.”
“Because last time that worked out so well for your fat—”
“We all have our things we don’t talk about, Troy. Don’t make me fucking kill you. I’m wearing my favorite tie.”
Footsteps sounded. “This isn’t over, D. I’ll be back. Don’t underestimate my love for you. Or my need to possess something dear to you. It didn’t go well last time and won’t go well this time. Remember how the game works… In the end, the ones you care for suffer.”
“And who’d you pick this time?”
“Like you don’t know.”
“Twenty-seven, blue eyes, reddish-brown hair, has a dimple on her right cheek, father owns two shipping companies, one little brother, married, one older sister, divorced, drives a Maserati and just can’t stop waiting for her prince to come, does that sound about right?”
He started slowly clapping. “So you did your research.”
Why?
He undid the ties, and I slept in his arms. Why, even when he was cruel, I wanted his name to fall from my lips, so even if I cursed him to hell, I knew whose name I was screaming? The blindfold had fallen down toward my nose while a fire roared in the corner, and blackness overtook the rest of my surroundings. Maybe on purpose, maybe because my villain thrived in the dark. Whatever it was, I was at least alone, able to breathe, to think.
Suddenly, the door opened, and I stilled as footsteps sounded.
A voice I didn’t recognize whispered in my ear, “One day, you’ll know what it’s like to serve at my mercy. Today. Is not that day.”
He left me shaking until the door opened again what felt like hours later. I tensed, assuming it was the terrifying stranger only to have the blindfold pulled from my face and my villain’s dark eyes searching mine.