Page 271 of Coal Hearts

I stilled.

Why would his temper be up?

What the fuck happened between our enjoyable dawn dinner and now?

Licking his lips, he continued in a calmer, colder tone. “I know you’ve seen the cameras everywhere. I don’t try to hide their existence. I also don’t hide that everything that goes on in my home is recorded—not for bribery or control over my guests but to protect my precious gems.” Waving at the line-up of jewels on the grass, his voice lowered with patriarchal concern. “Before I put cameras everywhere, a few of my guests were...overzealous with their affections. My jewels suffered needlessly, and I lost a few thanks to reckless unrestraint. Now, everyone knows they’re on camera, and if I see anyone maiming, butchering, or killing a jewel, they answer to me. Sometimes in the form of a fine and sometimes in the form of permanent removal from my home.”

Permanent?

Did that mean death?

“There’s only one place I allow my guests privacy, and that’s on the shitter. The tiniest blackspot in my omniscience.” He smiled graciously. “After all, no one needs to see that.”

“How generous of you,” I snapped, my own temper finally waking up. “Get to the goddamn point.”

“My point, mon ami, is this...” Pressing a single finger on the play button, the TV screen exploded with another video of Ily and me. Almost as if he’d plucked the scene from my previous thoughts, I stared at my half-naked body wedged over hers in my bed. Her legs wide enough for me to press in that perfect spot, her white negligée bunched around her waist, and eyes wide as I kept her wrists pinned above her head.

Raising the volume on the TV, Victor shot me a scowl.

And there, barely audible thanks to our careful whispering, was my voice, hoarse with need and fraying with self-control. “We both...have to use you again. Possibly in...room...play up for...cameras. I won’t treat you kindly...when...show. So...if you...then use me. Right here.... No regrets...”

My mind rushed with things to say.

But Victor merely held up his hand and skipped to another video. “Hold that thought, Henri. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to tell me after the next two. How about you watch first and then see if you can dig your way out of this fucking hole you’ve dug yourself into, hmm?”

With a finger stab on the button, he started the next one.

Ily argued with me by the door as I’d prepared to slink into the night to try to turn the scrambler off. She’d offered to come. Made reasonable points about why she should. And I’d hesitated because the thought of putting her in even more danger than I already had crippled me.

I scoffed at my past self.

I might hate this inquisition, but I hated last night’s version of me even more.

Watching that version on TV, seeing how wound up I was, how twitchy—almost like a crack addict around a fresh line of cocaine—was hard to stomach.

I was beyond fucking grateful I was no longer that weak or helpless.

Crackling sound rasped from the flatscreen, fanning out amongst the guests, jewels, and morning birdsong, patchy and bad quality, only snagging a few of our whispers.

My mouth moved; broken words spilled out. “I won’t need...won’t be seen.”

Ily asked something inaudible.

My lips curled back. “Yes...guards...lazy....Anyone thinks...I was roaming...the dark...ride will be here...be over.”

The sound quality filled with static as Ily argued, and I hissed back.

Finally, the most condemning part came in Ily’s soft, sweet voice. “I’d rather you...hurt me....This is bigger.... It’s...them—all those...slaves—and...I can’t...down. You can’t let them down.”

That last line was spoken far too clearly, far too passionately.

The jewels all shifted behind me, not daring to speak, but their fidgety body language blasted their confusion.

Crossing my arms, I merely arched an eyebrow and waited.

One more video.

What could possibly be any worse?