“Go up to the Liberty suite as soon as you’ve changed.”
I swallow. “Changed?”
“There’s an outfit hanging on your locker.” Then she leans in and lowers her voice. “Take the back elevator so none of the staff sees you. Favoritism doesn’t bode well for morale.”
I glance back at her in shock. “F-favoritism?”
“Il Diavolo selectedyou, didn’t he?”
“Um, yes. I suppose. I don’t think it was out of favoritism though?—"
“It’s not our place to debate his reasoning,” she clips. “Now go. I’ll stand in as host for you.”
What? Vivienne is going to stand in forme? It doesn’t make any sense. I’m a nobody here—a prisoner in many ways. But instead of arguing the point, I simply nod and walk quickly back to the staff area. When I open the door and see the dress hanging up, I gasp.
It’s beautiful. A long, floor-length backless gown in dark green satin with criss-cross straps over the shoulders and a cowl neckline. I check the label and almost pass out. It’s Givenchy, and obviously brand new.
I undress and slip the gown over my head, letting the beautiful fabric fall to my feet. At the foot of the lockers is a pair of diamante heels—more Louboutins—only these are thickly crusted with gems and must be worth hundreds of dollars. I slip them on and turn to face the mirror.
Instead of being bowled over by the sheer beauty of the outfit, I’m hit by a wall of nostalgia. This dress looks almost identical to the one I wore to my high school prom.
A dark fever winds around my spine, taking me back to a time I’ve worked hard to forget. A time when my uncle had dug his claws deep into my skin and I was planning my escape to Boston. It wouldn’t be long before I was on a Greyhound to Massachusetts with a couple bags and a heart full of fresh hope.
But the night of my prom…
It was like he knew his days were numbered and I’d be out of his grasp.
What he didn’t know was I’d been training for that moment. Two years of secret self-defense classes came in useful that night, but not before he violated me. Again.
My chest aches with a memory I’d managed to bury, and I have to sit for a moment until the dizziness subsides.
When I feel vaguely normal again, I make my way up to the Liberty suite, holding my breath as I knock on the door.
I enter on Fiero’s command and step shyly into the room. He’s standing right in the center, waiting.
He says nothing but his gaze rakes over every inch of my body, dropping to my gem-encrusted toes and stroking all the way up to the hair piled on my crown.
His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm but there’s a tension to it that suggests he’s trying to contain something.
We both swallow at the same time.
“Do-do you want me to undress?” The last two times he’s summoned me, that was his first instruction.
“No.”
The absence of any other command and the lingering silence beneath his roving gaze is unnerving, and I become aware of my fingers tangling and untangling at my waist.
“Tonight, Pfeiffer…”
My gaze snaps to his. “Yes?”
“You’re going to makemecome.”
My throat goes dry immediately.
“What do you want me to do?” I whisper, hoarsely.
He doesn’t reply. Instead, he draws his hands from his pockets and slowly unbuckles his belt. My heart pounds as he locks my gaze onto his, not tearing it away once as he pulls the leather through the loops and drops it to the floor.
