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“Prepare myself,” she whispers against the rim of the mug. “Exactly how am I supposed to prepare myself to be sold to another person? How can I get ready to no longer have control over my own life? Any tips for that?”
She carefully replaces the mug on the tray and then lifts the napkin wrapped silver and throws it at my face. Of course, since I’m within a foot, she makes a direct hit, the butt of the knife leaving a sting on my cheek.
I leave the utensils where they’ve fallen and glare. “Do it again, and I’ll drag you to the auction naked tonight. I’ll let every man there inspect you himself with his hands, his mouth, even his cock if he’s willing to pay the right price.”
She hisses out a breath. “You wouldn’t.”
“Why not? I’m already done with you.”
I went too far with that last comment, my anger riding me. I don’t know why I can never stay in control around this woman. But I can’t apologize. I’ve already shown too much weakness to her.
She lifts the apple from the tray like she might take a bite, then chucks it at me hard enough it makes a thud against my chest. I stare down at the apple, and then back at her, my mind a desolate wasteland where thought used to be. I snag her arm in my grip before she can run away.
“No, you’re not going yet.” I walk her to the desk, lift her up, and lay her across it.
She struggles and shoves at me, futilely. “No, get off me, you asshole.”
I pin her arms above her head, and her body with my own. “You don’t give me orders. I’m the one who gives you the orders. When you can’t obey them, you get punished.”
“What are you going to do? Fuck me? Lock me up? Sell me?” she mocks.
I pull her hands together in one of my fists and capture her chin in my hand. “You’re done talking for the day. I don’t want to hear another word out of you.”
She gasps, stilling over me. Her next words are soft. “I know you care about me. I can feel it every time you touch me. Like a tongue to a 9V, it sparks through me so obviously I can’t ignore it.”
“You don’t know anything about me, and I know nothing about you. What we did was fun, but that was it. Leave it alone now. It’s time to move on.”
Her eyes are wide and bright, tears hugging the edges. I feel like I’ve kicked a puppy with the way she’s looking at me.
She arches her neck toward me and presses her lips to mine, tears streaming over her cheeks as she stares into my eyes. I let her kiss me and refuse to move or even breathe as she molds her lips to mine. I don’t react, even as hard as it is for me not to. I stand like a statue, showing my cold indifference.
“It’s not true,” she whispers.
Before she’s out of my hands, I need to kill any notion in her we can ever have a future. As long as she thinks it’s possible, she won’t stop trying. I dig my phone out of my pocket and scroll to the last picture. It’s of her dead fiancé, lying on the concrete in the parking garage where I shot him.
I hold the phone up, so she can see the image. When her brain processes, she reels away in shock.
“This is what happens when you think love is real. People die. For some idiotic reason, you agreed to marry this fool. And he took that weakness for himself. Your fiancé wanted money more than he wanted a wife. When he drugged you and sold you to me, I thought it was enough to cover a percentage of his debt. This is what happened when he pushed for more, trying to see how much he could weasel out of me.” I close the phone and toss it on my desk. “Also, I didn’t like his face. Don’t mistake me for a kind man. I’m not. You’re here to make me money, and if you can’t do that, you’re expendable. Do you understand?” I put more bite in my tone than usual, for both our benefits.
When she nods, I turn to the tray and what is left of my breakfast. “Get the fuck out until I come find you tonight.”
She doesn’t leave right away, and I shovel some eggs into my mouth, pretending she doesn’t exist or that the very scent of her hasn’t worked its way under my skin.
The air around me stirs as she walks to the door. I don’t look at her when she goes. The second my office door closes, I throw myself into the armchair in front of my desk and focus on piecing myself back together again.
