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She didn’t respond immediately, absorbing the weight of everything I’d told her.
“I don’t want you to envy me,” she said quietly. “I know that I’ve been spoiled and that Daddy gave me an easy life. But I don’t like that you feel jealous of me. That’s not a nice way to feel about someone.”
Her voice was small, hurt. The thought that I might resent her or dislike her obviously caused her distress. It wasn’t her fault that she’d grown up wealthy with an overbearing father who had sheltered her from anything remotely unpleasant.
“I’m not jealous of you anymore,” I promised, wishing I didn’t have to keep my eyes on the road. I wanted her to see the full depth of sincerity in my next words. “I’m in awe of you.”
“You don’t have to say that,” she mumbled.
“I know I don’t have to. I’m saying it because it’s true.” I stole a glance over at her.
Her lower lip was caught between her teeth, her gaze fixed on her lap.
“Hey,” I said gently, calling her attention to me. “I mean it. I’d like to hear you sing.”
“Really?” she breathed.
God, she sounded so cautiously hopeful that it made my heart ache.
As soon as I’d brought her into my home, I’d quickly discerned that Sofia thrived on affirmation. From the very beginning of our time together, calling her my good girl had made her so sweetly compliant. Her reaction had satisfied me because it made her easily obedient. That ensured she was a cooperative hostage, but more importantly, it fulfilled my darkest desires for her. I craved her unquestioning submission to all the dirty, perverted things I’d fantasized about doing to her lithe little body.
But I hadn’t understood how fragile she would become when I manipulated her like that. Once I provided her with praise and affection, she became addicted to it. A few hits, and she put herself firmly in my power, cleaving to me and seeking more of my approval.
Until this moment, I hadn’t realized just how thoroughly Sofia had placed herself under my control. I wasn’t sure if she realized it, either. A cruel word from me could crush her, and if I wanted to, I could parse out my praise like a miser and make her even more malleable in her desperation to please me.
The idea made my stomach turn. If my manipulative methods had made her fragile, I would simply work that much harder to protect my precious little flower. I resolved to lavish her with praise to make up for it.
“I’m sure you have an incredible voice, since you were accepted into such a selective program,” I said, not fulsome in the slightest. That was simply a fact. “I would love to hear you sing.”
“You can sit in on my class if you want,” she offered, shifting quickly from doubt to eagerness. “I’m sure Professor Lassiter won’t mind. It’s not like it’s a lecture, so you won’t have to sit through that. There are only seven of us taking this course, and we’re all performers. You might get a little bored while we work on the theory and warm-up for the Alexander Technique, but you’ll also get to hear everyone practice.”
“You’re the only one I care about hearing.” Another completely truthful statement.
I snuck a glance in her direction to find that her cheeks were flushed, and a small, serene smile played around her pouty lips.
How could a woman look so innocently adorable and utterly fuckable at the same time?
“Everyone in the class is really talented,” she asserted, shifting some of my intense admiration off her and onto others, as though she didn’t believe she was fully deserving of the praise she so deeply craved.
“Only three of us are singers,” she continued. “Everyone else plays an instrument. You should hear Todd play piano. He’s insanely good. Like, world-class amazing.”
I definitely didn’t give a fuck about listening to Todd play the piano, especially if it incited such exuberance in Sofia.
“I’m looking forward to hearing you sing,” I said instead of telling her exactly what I would do to Todd if he looked at my sweet Sofia with even a hint of interest.
Now that we were leaving the solitude of my home, I was faced with the prospect of spending time with Sofia in public for the first time since I’d claimed her. If I’d felt protective of her before, now my protectiveness was layered with possessiveness. Things could get very dangerous for her male classmates if they didn’t acknowledge my claim. Especially because I was still trying to stick to my resolution not to touch her until she sought out contact. I was mindful of the fact that I’d scared her yesterday morning, and she had yet to reach for me.
That little incident would pale in comparison to her seeing my fists painted with a twenty-something pianist’s blood.
