Page 137 of Storm and Sea

“And there she goes again, spewing filth. No refinement. No training. A gem, yet unpolished.”

Alvise looked at her with the kind of disappointment that comes from finding a job half-finished. Like it was Marina’s responsibility to ‘meet expectations,’ and she’d fallen short. As if she owed him a damn thing.

“How you frustrate me,” he whispered, though he wore a delighted smile.

“Then I’m doing my job.”

“I could make you sparkle brighter than the stars,” he said as though she hadn’t spoken. “What will it take, my dear? How is that elderly family of yours? Fishing hasn’t been good this season. Will there be enough for them to eat this winter?”

Marina clenched her jaw until it hurt. “Get out of my way, Alvise.”

“I could make you want for nothing.”

“I want you to swallow a fish hook.”

“Or,” he leaned closer. “I can take it all. Then you’ll be forced to beg for everything.”

Marina wouldn’t back down. Not from him. Not today. She faced him, eyes narrowed. Their faces were much too close. He was doused in rich cologne and she with fish-gut water.

“Go. To. Hell.”

“Only. With. You.” His voice glided like a figure skater across the ice. “It’s only a matter of time, my little vixen. You will come to me, one way or another.”

“I thought I wasn’t pretty enough for your collection?” she hissed, barely resisting the urge to spit on his face.

“Not yet. But there is so much to be done with you.”

Before she could blink, before she could scream, his hand clamped onto the back of her head, yanking her hair violently. Her chest slammed flush with his as he wrenched her head back, exposing her throat. When she tried to push away, his grip tightened, drawing a whimper from her lips. Alvise hummed, pleased, as though savoring the thought of tasting her skin.

Marina’s pulse raced, her limbs weak and unsteady. Her scalp burned from the violent grip, and she could barely draw a breath. The sound of his satisfied hum sent a chill down her spine, anger mixing with helplessness. Her skin prickled with dread as her body betrayed her. Freezing in the face of danger.

“As a maid on my estate, I can shape you into something you can scarcely imagine. Fix all these rough edges. All the impurities. These gorgeous tresses,” he lifted a section of hair to his nose, breathing deeply. “They are too precious to waste.” He wrinkled his nose. “But let’s start with the smell.”

Marina shoved him, stumbling as he released her. “D-don’t touch me.” She faltered, hating how pathetic and scared she sounded.

“What is going on here?” A voice called from behind her.

Alvise straightened, placing both hands in his pockets. “Nothing at all.”

“That’s not what it sounded like.”

Marina turned to the newcomer, and there he was—the beautiful stranger. The man she’d almost successfully forgotten about.

Because, of course he was here.

His clothes were casual, and his hair was pulled back in a ponytail. But the look of anger on his face was new. And it was far more frightening than she thought possible.

“Let’s leave the lady alone; what do you say, Alvise?” he said with a not-so-subtle threat in his tone.

Alvise remained unmoved. “You have no claim to her. As far as I see it, we were having a friendly chat.”

“Not all things are objects to be claimed,” the stranger hissed. “Especially people.”

“Once again, that is where you’re wrong.”

Marina felt that these two had been down this road before. This conversation felt old, like a battle that had been fought many times.

“It’s time for you to go, Alvise.”