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My disbelieving laughter does nothing to smooth the worry lines between her brows. “From what? What do you think? Your life. Your old life. That's in the past now.”
“So... I'm sorry, I'm trying to understand.” She's breathing fast, chest heaving, her face going red. Did I use too much chloroform? Instantly, I reach for the wastebasket and draw it close just in case. This is too much for her. But I don't know how to take it slow.
I saw what I wanted, and I took it. End of story.
“I'll explain it to you,” I murmur, speaking slowly. Anything, so long as she calms down. “You're going to live here now, with me. You don't ever have to worry about anything ever again. Not some stupid, pointless job where you'll be unappreciated and at the mercy of men like that pig at the hotel. No scrambling around, no debasing yourself to make ends meet. The world is yours. There's so much I want to give you.”
Who am I? I hadn't planned that little speech—if I had, it wouldn't have been so awkward and stilted. But it came from truth.
“And I don't get a choice?”
“Why would you choose otherwise?”
“That's not the point. You don't bring somebody to your house—unconscious, by the way—and expect them to be grateful when they tell you your life isn't your own anymore. I mean, what, am I your sex slave now?” Her chest heaves in silent sobs. As if the idea is the worst she can imagine.
I can't help but recoil from the ugliness her words suggest. “Why would you say that? That's beneath you. Both of us, really.”
Her body sags, her eyes closing for a moment before slowly opening. “I'm sorry. I'm dizzy, and I don't feel well. I'm thirsty, too.” She touches her hand to her slim, flushed throat. “Can I have some water?”
“Of course. You stay right there. I don't want you hurting yourself if you feel faint.” I push the chair back from the bed and stand, then go to the door. “You'll see after a little rest and a little more time.”
Does she hear me? I don't know.
But I would bet against it since she flies by me in a blur of cream-colored satin the instant I opened the door. The gown billows behind her while she pinwheels her arms, feet flying over the wood floor, head swinging back and forth while she searches for a way out.
A part of me wants to let her go, to see if she honestly believes she'll get away in nothing but a satin nightgown and bare feet. She has no idea where we are or that we're surrounded by woods in all directions for at least a mile.
No, that would be cruel, and I’m not a cruel man.
But it isn't only kindness that leaves me grabbing her before she reaches the top of the stairs, sliding an arm around her waist and lifting her off her feet with all the effort it takes to lift a feather.
How dare she?
“No! No, please! Let me go!” Her shrieks echo through the otherwise empty house, shrieks tinged with terror she has no business feeling.
“After all the trouble I've gone through, and this is how you thank me?”
“Please!” Shrieks turn to sobs by the time we reach the end of the hall again, where I place her on her feet beside the bed. Instantly she turns, fists pounding my chest.
It’s almost cute how she thinks she’ll hurt me when I hardly feel it. I take hold of her fists, which leaves her kicking my shins instead. I might even be proud of her if it was anyone but me she was fighting. The little wildcat.
When she lifts her arm and brings mine with it so she can sink her teeth into my flesh, my already thin patience snaps, and everything in front of me goes red.
“Is this how you like it?” I snarl, hauling her in close. Her body shakes against mine, tear-filled eyes staring up at me. “You want to play rough? It so happens I excel at that.”
Releasing her wrists, I throw her to the bed hard enough that she nearly bounces off. “You don’t like your nightgown?” My fingers close over the delicate satin an instant before I tear it.
She goes still all at once, her gasp almost as loud as the sound of ripped fabric. By the time I’ve finished, the gown is slit from bottom to top, bearing her trembling body to me. Fear has tightened her nipples and caused her tits to heave, and God help me, I can’t help but take hold of one and squeeze until she yelps.
“It didn’t have to be this way.” She doesn’t fight this time as I strip her free of the gown and use it to tie her wrists to the heavy, wooden headboard. She settles for weeping quietly, shuddering when I cinch the torn satin.
“Please.” Tears roll down her flushed cheeks, her body shaking hard enough to rattle the bedframe. “Don’t hurt me. I know you’re a nice person. You were so nice to me at the party.”
Is that who she thinks I am? Some maniac she needs to flatter into sparing her? Knowing that only leaves me gritting my teeth against the diatribe I’d love to let loose. My body is all but vibrating in rage at being misunderstood and underestimated.
All but rejected.
There’s something else, something I can’t ignore. Her shaking, naked body, gleaming in the golden, midafternoon sunshine streaming through the windows beside the bed. Practically begging to be touched. Explored. Used for my pleasure.
