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“No, what?” His tone went back to that harder place again.
She felt the heat rise in her face.
“No, Master,” she said quietly, but she knew the other man could hear. The room was too quiet, the only other sound was the ticking clock on the wall.
Finally the stranger spoke. “So, you have a new pet. Hiding her from me? When do I get to play with her?”
His tone was light, but the moment was anything but light for Claire. A small whimper escaped her throat, and she moved closer to Ari, as if begging his protection from this man. She was too afraid to actually beg him—afraid it would only make things worse. Begging had never done her any good in the basement. It only made her captor do more terrible things to her.
“I'm not sharing this one,” Ari said, still gently stroking her hair and the nape of her neck. She leaned into him as he petted her.
“Whatever happened to my slut is your slut?” the other man asked.
Claire flinched at that, biting back the sob that wanted to escape as she waited, still terrified Ari would turn on her.
“I'm afraid we won't be playing that game anymore,” Ari said. “Claire is different.” Then his attention turned to her. “Look at me, little one.”
The gentleness in his tone called her gaze to his. He wiped away the tears on her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Did you need something or were you just exploring?” he asked.
“E-exploring,” she said because she couldn't think of a made-up need. She still wasn't convinced he hadn't forgotten to lock the chain around her ankle. Would he punish her for wandering through his house?
“Let me watch, then,” the man said.
“Kane...” Her master sounded exasperated.
“You know how much I like to watch. I promise I won't comment or interfere or touch her.”
There was a pause as if he were actually considering it, and Claire found herself holding her breath.
“You want to paint her,” Ari said finally as if a realization of some importance had just hit him.
Claire chanced a glance up at Kane. He stared right into her. It was a hard unyielding stare that unnerved her, but there was no malice or cruelty in it. He looked at her as if he could see through the shirt she wore, but there was surprisingly nothing lewd in his expression. He wasn't leering at her. She wasn't sure what it was she saw in his gaze, but it contained an intense raw power, whatever it was. And it scared her.
“No, Ineedto paint her. You've always wanted me to paint one of your girls,” Kane said.
“And you've always said no.”
“Holly? Are you kidding me? I wouldn't mar a canvas or waste the paint on that brat. I'm glad she's in Paris. This one suits you much better. And those eyes... holy fuck, Ari. I have to paint her. You know I have to paint her. But I need to observe her in action first.”
So Kane was an artist? But he wanted to watch Ari touch her? Or fuck her? What kind of art did he make? Claire's gaze had returned to the floor as the two men talked about her like she wasn't in the room.
“When would you want to do it?” Ari asked.
“If you let me watch you with her today, I'm free tomorrow morning to paint.”
“How much?”
“I'll give you the friends and family discount. Two hundred thousand,” Kane said.
Claire's breath felt trapped in her chest as she waited. Ari wasn't selling her to this man, but the exchange of money, the negotiation over her... it felt too uncomfortably familiar.
“How big would the piece be?” Ari asked.
“You've seen my work. The standard size.”
Ari sighed. “Okay.”
He stroked her hair, and she looked up at him, knowing he would see the fear and question in her gaze. She couldn't wipe it from her face in time to hide it from him.
