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Spectacularly.
There’d be no way to fake this.
No privacy blankets to spread over us while I pretended to fuck her.
No corners where cameras couldn’t reach where I could pantomime her serving me.
I would have to touch her.
I would have to use her.
Because if I didn’t…another would.
And as fucked up as it was, I was responsible for her.
I’d noticed her.
Targeted her.
Claimed her.
Mine.
She’s mine.
I felt motherfucking sick.
Victor must’ve noticed my frozen parlour because he patted my hand with a gentle scoff. “Stop listening to that angel on your shoulder, Henri. Tell it to fuck right off. There’s no room for halos and morals here. You wanted into this world. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t see the devil inside you. Let it out to play before I get bored having to mollycoddle you.” Leaning back, he shrugged. “By the end of the day, you’ll either be free or more broken than her. It’s entirely up to you.”
Shoving aside the shreds of the son I used to be and the past that’d tried to define me, I squared my shoulders. “Tell me what I need to do.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He chuckled and cocked his chin at the men still lingering around. “Gentlemen, for those who have had the privilege of training a jewel, how many levels of ownership are there? And how many of them do you think Henri can achieve in a weekend?”
A ripple of conversation.
I didn’t dare look at Ily.
She didn’t dare speak.
A slim Spanish-looking man stepped up the steps of the patio. A gorgeous Asian woman dressed in a sheer silver negligee with her golden collar gleaming and empty eyes locked on the ground followed closely.
He loomed over our table, ignoring his obedient jewel. “There are twelve levels of ownership.” Looking me up and down as if he debated asking me to clean his loafers, he smirked. “And I doubt you’ll be able to accomplish a single one.”
“Now, now.” Victor laughed. “Be nice, Loui.”
“Twelve?” I cut in.
“Don’t feel like you have to memorise them. I will walk you through each one,” Victor said. “But…out of interest’s sake, the twelve ownerships are: ownership of her body. Ownership of her mind. Of her thoughts, impulses, and feelings. Of her pleasure. Her instincts. Her synapses. Her senses—including sight, taste, hearing, touch, and pain. Ownership of her embarrassment and liberation. Obedience and submission. Of her life. Her soul.” Leaning closer, he licked his bottom lip. “And finally, ownership of her all. That’s my personal favourite.”
I forced myself to swallow, choking on bile. “Her all?”
“Every shred of her immortal and mortal existence. You will become her everything. You will own her so completely that if you commanded her heart to stop…it would.”
I wiped my mouth.
My hand trembled with blackened yearning. “That’s…that’s a heady level of power.”
“It is. It really is. It’s addictive. It’s liberating. It’s the best drug in the world.” Victor suddenly stood and used his napkin to wipe the sheen of sweat off his forehead from the hot morning. “So…shall we get started?”
