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Gareth and Brooks’s eyes were on me.
“That's it?” Gareth asked. “That's all you want?”
My lips parted open, unsure how to respond.
I'd been on a strict diet since I was twelve years old. My father had final say over everything I put into my mouth, right down to the prenatal vitamins he'd forced me to take for the last four years, just in case he sold me off. He wanted buyers to know I was healthy and fertile.
God, even thinking about it sounded fucking medieval, and I wanted to rage and cry and crumple into a little ball as I realized how pathetic my life had been up until now.
And hell, Gareth might do the exact same thing, because while he was officially out of the family empire that he’d been born into, people never really got out. He might have gone legitimate and made his wealth the straight way, but I knew he was still close with his family. I’d overheard my father talking about it after the first poker game we attended.
Maybe Gareth would start dictating my diet, too.
“It's fine,” I finally answered, not really ready to dive into the fact that my last personal food choice had cost me several bruises on my ribs that had taken weeks to heal.
Gareth motioned to the variety on the table. “Everything on this table and you want just fruit?”
I couldn't respond.
“Serenity,” he said, his powerful voice wrapping around my name in a way that had my stomach flipping. “You can have whatever you want.”
His words released a chain reaction inside of me, like his approval unlatched some collar I'd had around my throat. I studied him, waiting for him to take it back, or scold me the minute I reached for the tongs, and put two fluffy pancakes on my plate.
Gareth made no move to scold me, but he did watch me. He kept those pale green eyes on me even as I took a bite of the delightful, fluffy concoction.
I moaned around the bite. I couldn't help it. It’d been ages since I tasted something as sweet and rich as this. So I took another bite, then another. I even had bacon—two slices. And by the time I was done, I was so full I almost regretted eating so much, but it was hard to when I'd decided for myself.
When was the last time I'd been able to choose anything?
I couldn't remember.
Gareth, Brooks, and I settled into a silence as they finished their breakfast, and afterward we quickly cleaned up, packed, and got on Gareth’s jet. The plane was Chicago bound, whisking us to his home.
“I’ll catch up with you soon,” Brooks said when we’d landed at the airport. “Call me if you need protection.”
“Doyle won’t try?—”
“Not from him,” Brooks cut Gareth off. “From Dante.”
Chill skated down my spine at the idea of Gareth needing any form of protection, but Gareth just waved his friend off. “I’ll call you if I need you,” he said before leading me into the back of a private black car that ushered us all the way to his gated estate.
There was something oddly comforting about those gates slamming home as the car pulled through them, and I couldn't help but marvel at how large and beautifully crafted Gareth’s home was.
The mansion had to be over one hundred years old, but its updates were extensive, and as he led me through the doors, giving me a brief tour, I was able to make out every edition that was purely Gareth—from the rich dark furniture and the lounge areas to his private offices that were lined wall-to-wall with books.
The tension in my body mounted when we made it to his bedroom, where he sat his suitcases in a giant closet in the farthest corner of the room. It was simple and clean, with personal touches that matched Gareth’s dark and brooding style—a gilded oil painting of a raven here, a black focal wall there.
I lingered in the main area, my eyes widening when I spotted a pair of hooks on his four-poster mahogany bed frame. I stared at them curiously, wondering what purpose they could serve before my mind finally leaped to the right conclusion.
The only conclusion.
I didn’t know much about sex, but I highly doubted Gareth was chaining himself up at night due to any physical ailment that would require him to do so. My heart skipped in my chest. He tied women up in here. I’m sure the waiting list was expansive. I wonder if that would change now? No, likely not. Why would it? This was a favor, nothing real. Still, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what it would be like, to be wholly under Gareth’s control? Tied up with no choice to let him do whatever he wanted to me.
Heat streaked through me, but I quickly killed the fantasy.
I'd never even been kissed before, not consensually, anyway. The son of an allying family had cornered me and kissed me when I was fourteen. It had been rough and quick and unpleasant. My guards beat him to a pulp when they caught him.
I trailed my fingers over one of the hooks, unable to quell the curiosity. “Are you planning to hold me prisoner?” I asked, trying to make a joke. It didn’t work, not with the reality I’d lived my entire life.
