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I liked talking to Ily.
I’d always liked talking to her.
But I couldn’t imagine other Masters spoke so freely or allowed their jewels to get so stroppy.
Running my thumb over the leash, I dabbled with the idea of telling her to bend over instead of finishing this conversation.
The longer she spoke, the harder I got.
The more she tried to break me, the hotter I became to break her.
Not raising my eyes, I studied the leather strip.
She wanted my greatest weakness?
Fine.
I had a sneaking suspicion what that was, and if she was half as intelligent as I thought, I was surprised she hadn’t figured it out by now. I all but confessed it in everything I told her.
“It’s not Ward any longer. And it’s not really Mercer. It’s just Henri…while we’re alone. But when we’re in company, I suggest you call me Master H…just to avoid any issues.”
“I hate you,” she hissed almost too low to hear.
I pretended her curse didn’t strike like a stinging arrow in my heart.
Keeping a smile on my lips, I murmured, “And you could just ask, you know. Ask me what my greatest weakness is. I’ll tell you.”
She laughed again. “As if.”
“I would.” I looked up, drinking in her magnificence. The sapphire glow of her blue-black hair, the way her skin gleamed just a little bit darker than mine, how a lone freckle stamped a beauty spot right beneath her right eye. If she one day told me she was a fairy and the inked wand on her back was real, I would probably fucking believe her.
She’d certainly cast a bastard of a spell on me.
For the first time, I wondered if I would’ve been able to resist temptation if I hadn’t been tasked to capture her. If I’d been given any other slave that wasn’t her.
I’d believed I’d stayed firm in my resolve because I’d felt something for her.
I’d tried to do the right thing to save her.
But now…with hindsight screwing me up, I feared the moment I caught the curse of true feelings was the moment I’d fallen.
Given in.
Broken.
Not because I couldn’t stomach the thought of hurting her but because I couldn’t fucking handle never seeing her again.
I stiffened.
Not only had I bought myself a lifetime stay at the greatest sadistic hotel ever built but I’d ensured she would stay right by my side.
Together.
Just like I wanted.
Raking both hands through my hair, I sat a little taller and looked down at her. For all intents, she wasn’t just my slave; she was my wife. Just like I told Q she might’ve become if I’d been normal. And, like any doting husband, I wanted to share every part of myself with her.
“Go on,” I urged. “Ask me.”
She studied me for an age before finally slouching as if I stole all her fire. “Fine. What’s your greatest weakness, oh great Master H?”
My lips twitched, but I didn’t rise to her bait. “I thought it was obvious. It is to everyone else.”
Her nose wrinkled.
Dropping to my knees before her, I ran my knuckles over her perfect, slightly sweaty cheek. “No guesses? No theories?”
Ripping her face from my touch, she glowered. “I would’ve said your brother…but you proved that wasn’t the case.”
Temper sparked just a little. “That was a stupid little stunt you pulled in Victor’s office, by the way. Telling Q your name. Where your father works.” I pouted. “He learned your full name before I did.”
“Did you stop to think it might be because he deserves it and you don’t?”
“It doesn’t matter anyway.” I sighed. “He told me he’s been trying to bring Victor down for years. He’s not been able to before, and he won’t be able to in the future. The best he can do is tell your parents you’re alive and belong to me.”
She shivered as if her body couldn’t handle the level of her loathing.
She didn’t speak.
I tried to smooth the thorns between us.
“Sharma.” Leaning close, I sniffed the sweet fragrance of her skin. “Ilyana Sharma. Is that Indian? Was that what you were speaking on the cross? Hindi? Why do you have a wand on your back?”
She cringed away. “You lost any right to ask me questions the day you lied to me.”
“You’re the one who jumped to conclusions.”
“You’re the one who let me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
I huffed. “You’ll want to talk to me one day, you know. To share your family with me. Your childhood and all the moments that made up your life before we met.”
“Doubt it.”
“We’re stuck with each other. Together, remember. Forever, actually. I was literally just thinking our relationship is almost like a marriage—”
“A what now?” She coughed, but her cheeks pinked. “You…you think I’m your wife?”
“Would that be so bad? I’m aware I’ll never get a wife the usual way, and…I rather fancy playing the fantasy that you’re mine in that way. Monogamy would be rare in this place, but I’m far more drawn to the thought of never sharing you than I am—”
