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I swipe through his password, half expecting that he’s changed it, but it turns on quickly and brings me to his home screen. I can’t breathe. I’m dizzy with my need to make this call and not get caught. My heartbeat quickens, blood thrumming through my veins as I pull up the number pad and with a few strokes block Demyan’s number so Glen can’t trace this. I clumsily dial Glen’s number.
“Please pick up,” I whisper. “Please, please.”
What if he doesn’t pick up? What if I’ve risked Demyan’s wrath for nothing? The phone rings and rings and I’ve almost given up hope when there’s a click.
“Hello?”
“Glen,” I choke out. Tears blur my vision with the sound of my friend’s voice. “We can’t speak freely. If they find out how to tap this call…” my voice wavers. I don’t want them to hear that I’m calling for Calina. It’s too risky.
“Listen, I only have seconds here to talk and have to make this quick. Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” he says emphatically, with meaning. “Everything is okay. My God,” he says. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay. What have they done to you?”
“I’m fine,” I lie, because I’m not fine. I’m shaking in fear that my ruthless captor will return and find me breaching his trust, and my body has not forgotten the first punishment he gave me for attempting just this. I’m naked and scared and tomorrow I pledge my vows to him.
But that doesn’t matter. I’m not Larissa anymore. I’m the scapegoat who took the punishment meant for another.
“I’m glad to hear it,” he says. “I assure you, everyone here is fine as well. Thriving, even.” I’m so relieved a lone tear rolls down my cheek.
I can’t talk but Glen continues. “Can you escape? Can you—”
Footsteps sound in the hallway.
“Thank you,” I tell him, and I hang up the phone as the footsteps sound louder. With trembling fingers, I swipe at the call log and wipe it, power down the phone, and shove it to the corner of his desk just before the lock on the door clicks. By the time I hear the door swing open, I’m face down over the desk, grabbing the very edge as he instructed, cool air gracing my ass and bare legs.
The door clicks.
“Khristos.”
I close my eyes so he doesn’t see them tear-filled, so I don’t betray what I’ve done. Will he know I made the call? Will he suspect what I’ve done at all? And why do I feel so guilty?
He was on the verge of punishing me before he left. I hope he does now. I want to lose myself in the pain and pleasure he gives me. I’m so riddled with emotion I can’t bear this, and somehow I know if he makes it hurt, I can move past this. I can make peace with my circumstances.
I know he steals closer when I feel his warmth behind me, his large body overshadowing mine, prone on his desk. The cool, gleaming surface presses against my breasts, the edge against my belly. My fingers hold onto the very edge white-knuckled, like I’m hanging onto the edge of a cliff.
“Were you a good little girl while I was gone?” he asks.
“You weren’t gone very long, sir,” I respond, my traitorous voice tremulous.
I start when he barely touches my shoulders, massaging the naked skin.
“I wasn’t,” he says. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”
I decide to lean into the truth rather than a lie.
“No, sir. I wasn’t,” I say, and I wonder if he can hear the note of regret in my voice. I don’t like that I’m genuinely repentant. That somewhere deep inside me I really want his approval. Why? Why do I care? I continue, because now I need that punishment he offered me. “I’m a bad girl who needs to be punished.”
A rush of excitement races through me when he brushes the hair off my neck and kisses me, just before he laves his tongue along the soft skin.
“Such a vulnerable spot,” he whispers, while he licks along the back of my neck. One finger travels from my jaw to my pulse. “One nick of a knife, and you sever a major artery. You’d soak my desk with your blood while you writhed beneath me.” My already-racing pulse quickens, dizzying me. I hold the edge of the desk tighter when he wraps his hands around my neck like a noose. “Naked and ready for a collar to remind you that I’m your master.” His fingers tighten and blood rushes to my head. I can breathe but barely, my throat constricted, but just when I begin to panic, he loosens his grip and I gasp for breath. To my shock, I’m both scared and thrilled. He’s unpredictable but controlled and somehow, I’ve begun to trust that he won’t truly hurt me.
