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“Good girl.”
His hand slid inside hers, and they walked together like some normal couple out of the museum and into the cool evening.
Phillip had already paidfor her by the time she reached the guest room he waited in. She’d been directed by Quill to change clothes as soon as they’d gotten back. He’d selected a pair of black heels from her things as well as a long black satin night gown with thin straps and a slit up the side. It was sexy, but didn’t make her feel too naked. It didn’t make her feel dirty.
Marcus stood outside the door, his face impossible to read.
“The gloves?” Quill said.
Marcus passed him a pair of long black opera gloves.
“Phillip likes them,” Quill said. “You will always wear these whenever you see him.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and left her alone in the hall with Marcus.
Saskia stared at the gloves. Marcus gripped her hand, and she looked up.
“If he hurts you in any way... If you don’t want something and he doesn’t listen, scream, and I’ll stop it.”
“What if he stops me from screaming?” Saskia couldn’t imagine Phillip doing such a thing, but there were a lot of things she hadn’t been able to imagine that had nevertheless happened in her time here.
“You know he’ll be watching the cameras.”
Marcus meant Quill. Saskia was sure he thought of him as Drake or Andrew. He didn’t know Phillip had let the name slip at the party. It felt dangerous to know Quill’s true name when he’d used so much subterfuge to keep it from her. Though maybe he was just used to being secretive about everything, hoping his lives didn’t overlap or intersect in the wrong way at the wrong time.
She still wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to introduce himself to her as Lachlan Niche. She supposed, in the end, it created fewer questions. As Drake, he’d have to make up a story of where his money came from, which might lead around to Niche anyway. Perhaps he’d thought it better to just give her an alias with a ready-made recognizable fortune and penchant for art collecting behind it.
“Love?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll scream.”
He nodded.
Although she’d agreed to this back at the museum, she wasn’t sure now if she could bring herself to fuck a stranger with Marcus listening right outside the door and Quill watching on a screen in another part of the house. She wondered if her master would be in his room—the mysterious room she still hadn’t been granted access to. Would he watch and stroke himself? Would he be jealous like he’d acted toward Marcus? Or was it only because Marcus had held her hand and shown her affection? If Phillip just used her like something, would he be angry at her treatment or happy that he didn’t have anything to compete with?
She put the gloves on and opened the door. When she stepped into the room, she let out an audible gasp.
“I take it, you’ve never seen this room before?” Phillip said. “So you must be new to this side of your master’s demands.”
The room was dark red with gold shimmery sheer fabric that billowed and hung from the ceiling. Oriental rugs covered the floor in a patchwork that overlapped so completely that hardly any floor peered through. What little did show was a dark polished wood.
Large cushions were scattered about, and there were several dim lamps lit. In fact, all the light in this room was indirect. Soft. Flattering. Not that Phillip hadn’t already seen plenty of her tonight.
“Y-you’re my first,” she said, her gaze dropping of its own accord. She still wasn’t quite sure why she couldn’t bring herself to try to escape this place. It wasn’t as if there were no ways out. Worst case scenario, she could go to a homeless shelter. She could figure something out, and yet she kept choosing Quill’s dark demands and the art between them—pretending any of it meant something.
“Sir,” Phillip corrected. His voice was stern, but not unkind.
“Sir.” She felt weirdly grateful he’d set a tone for them. She hadn’t been sure what she should call him.
“I’m honored to be the first,” he said, patting the bed beside him. It was large and round and covered in pillows.
She went to him, still taking in her surroundings.
“This room is inspired by the harem-themed room at the club,” Phillip said. “It’s my favorite room, both there and here. I find it comforts newer girls. It’s not too harsh.”
“How many women has my master shared with you? I thought he only collared one other person besides me.”
“Formally, you are his second, but he’s had several others on a probationary basis. They never seem to last very long. I’m surprised he put a collar on you before putting you through your paces.”
Phillip spoke as if she were a show horse. If he only knew the sordid way she’d come to be Quill’s. Like Ari, Phillip seemed to think her being here was fully voluntary—just a bit of kink she was exploring. She wondered how he’d feel if he knew it wasn’t, if he knew just how real Quill’s ownership of her was.
