Page 109 of The Cannibal

“You may instruct him to be outside your door, but no farther than a single step past the door.” Silas walked away to gather shoes.

I lowered back down into the chair, crossing one leg over the other as I watched.

He glanced at me once, then returned for a longer stare.

I quirked my brow, which earned me a smirk.

Gesturing with the tip of my head, I reminded him of my personal bodyguard still being present.

“You need a set.” He went to the side drawer of the bedside table, grabbing a red velvet box.

“Need?” I mumbled.

“You’d be practically naked without.”

“I could simply go in the nude.”

He opened the box, pulling out a string of fine pearls.

I glanced from the glistening pearls to him as he approached.

He draped it over my head for it to rest loose on my neck.

But he wasn’t finished.

He went to his desk, another drawer holding smaller boxes. He tossed them all in my lap. When I opened them, there were pearl earrings, bracelets, a hair pin. He went to the ottoman at the end of the bed, opening it for three more boxes, then leaned back down to pile on two more.

“What is all of this?” I looked at him in abject horror, either from fear of the cost or the possibility it was all strung from more personal material again.

“Yours” is all he said, pulling out a larger string of pearls as he stepped behind me, layering another set as the gems clattered against one another.

“What if I refuse?”

The strings rippled up my chest before they pulled snug around my throat, Silas’s hands bunching them at the nape of my neck. He leaned down to my ear. “Don’t break my heart just yet.” He pulled a little tighter. “Wear them well, hold yourself upright, and I can strip you of everything after a good show,” he teased.

I tilted my head backward as he stared down at me. “You’re mistaken. I don’t think I have good enough breeding for such a show.”

He let go of the pearls, opening one of the other boxes. A smaller piece, a rosary to match the necklaces, with a golden cross laid with seed pearls. Whoever made it must not have minded the sin of prodigality, but the commissioner I already knew suffered from great pride and avarice.

“They say rotting wealth will consume your flesh like fire.” I traced my finger over the detailing of the chair arm.

“Is that so?” He placed one hand on each arm of the chair to glower over me, the pearls clutched in his grip.

“I can hold myself well without riches,” I said.

“Consume your flesh like fire,” he repeated, placing the pearl-clutching hand on my leg, pushing the fabric skirt up as he leaned in. “Will it be my flesh?” he whispered in my ear, then his cool hand slipped between my thighs. “Or yours?”

I glanced toward Sidney, wondering if he was hearing this. Thank the Lord above he wasn’t seeing it.

Silas touched me, slipping his fingers between my legs. The pearls rubbed against my clit, his fingers facing no resistance when they slipped inside.

I flinched, refusing to look at him.

My face was hotter than a whistling kettle. If I got any warmer I may be deemed feverishly ill. At the same time, it was completely disturbing of me to be enjoying any part of this.

He removed his fingers halfway, then pushed in, but it included one or two beads of pearls.

My face snapped to him, and our noses touched.