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"I never showed you any disrespect, Edouard."
He laughed. His hand was moving again, down her abdomen to her belly. She told herself not to think about it, or about Vince, looking down from beside the bed and breathing hard, or Joey, who'd come sliding into the room and was standing by the door, watching, his beady eyes gleaming.
"Miranda, ma petite, let us show some honesty, now that we have reached such an important juncture in our relationship. I gave you my name, took you into my home, and how did you repay me? By cringing when I touched you, just as you cringe now. By crying for your mother and running off with her, as soon as she appeared."
"Edouard, please, I was only a child."
"Your mother was no better. Calling me names. How dared she?" Edouard leaned towards her, his eyes bright with hatred, the phony smile gone from his lips. "I am the Count de Lasserre and she—she is nothing. I knew it, in my heart, and I set out to prove it."
"Edouard, God, will you listen?"
"Eva Winthrop," Edouard de Lasserre said, spitting out the words. "Wife of Hoyt, founder of an empire—and all the time, she was nothing but a whore. A Colombian putain, with pretensions of grandeur." He stood up and jerked his chin at Vince. "Turn on the lights."
Vince grinned. "Here we go, Joey."
Lights blazed on overhead. Miranda blinked and tried to turn her face away from the glare.
"Get the video cameras and the tripods. You know where to place them."
"Edouard," Miranda sobbed, "Edouard, please..."
De Lasserre bent down and back-handed her across the face. She felt blood well at the corner of her mouth.
"Shut up, putain."
"Edouard, don't do this. Please, please, just tell me what you want!"
"It is too late for begging, Miranda." Edouard shrugged off his suit jacket, folded it carefully and lay it over the back of a chair. "I offered your mother one last chance but she chose to ignore it."
"What last chance? I don't know what you're talking about."
He undid his tie and put it on top of his jacket.
"No, no, Vincent," he said impatiently, "do not put that tripod there. Further back, near the wall."
"Edouard," Miranda said desperately, "what chance did you offer Eva?"
"It does not matter, beloved." He smiled as he stood over her and stripped off his shirt. His torso had thickened; she remembered that he'd been lean and muscular but now there was a power to his shoulders and chest that seemed almost brutish. "Eva denied me a business opportunity but I will deny her the pleasure of her daughter. As for the little gem of a video we make today—it will be a memento, if you will, a reminder of our marriage that I shall always cherish."
Still smiling, he kicked off his shoes and opened his belt.
"No!" Miranda sobbed as she struggled against the scarves. "No, you can't really mean to do this, Edouard!"
He sat down beside her. "First I will have you," he whispered, "and then, though it pains me to do so, I will give you to Vincent and to Joseph, who deserve something for their role in this, n'est-ce pas?" He reached out and moved his hand over her, his touch lazy and loose. "And then I will take you again, Miranda, but this time, when I climax, you will die." He bent towards her, his breath hot and wine-scented on her face. "I promise, darling, I will make this extraordinary. You will feel such joy, such pleasure, that your death will be a small price to pay for—"
Miranda's head shot up from the pillow and she spat into his face.
Edouard reared back. Slowly, he raised his arm and wiped the spittle from his cheek.
"So much for pleasuring you," he said coldly. "And so much for dying quickly. I shall prolong my climax, Miranda, and Vincent, who is really quite clever, shall prolong your death." He stood, unzipped his fly, and nodded at Vincent. "Untie her ankles and strip her."
Miranda screamed, even though she knew no one could hear her. Vince worked at the scarves that bound her feet while Joey held her legs down. They were strong, the both of them, but terror made her strong, too. She kicked out, hard, and she heard Vince warn Joey to hold her tighter, and she kicked again and again and suddenly she felt her foot smash into something.
Vince grabbed his eye and stumbled backwards.
"Bitch," he snarled. "Joey, for crissakes, hang onto her!"
She kicked again, lower this time, and Joey doubled over in agony, but by then Vince had staggered back to the foot of the bed and grabbed both her feet.
