“Scarlett,” I say simply. “Don’t make me force you.”
With a grumble of irritation, she turns to face me, eyes open and laced with annoyance. I smile at her. “I’ve missed you, Flower,” I find myself reiterating. I really have.
“You would’ve done both of us a favor if you forgot me.”
“I could never forget you. Not even if I tried. And you could never forget me, as you’ve admitted.” I tuck a few strands of damp hair behind her ear.
“You know it’s different,” she mutters. “You remember me as the girl you loved to torment, and I remember you as the man who tortured me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Scarlett. I don’t remember you as the girl I loved to torment; I just remember you as the girl that I love.”
She doesn’t respond to that, but her brows furrow and she stares at me with a mixture of curiosity and fear in her gaze. My words frighten her, but they also interest her to some degree—she watches me like I’m a riddle to solve until her eyelids start to flutter, and she slips right into a deep sleep.
I stay next to her for a while, gazing at her and reveling in the knowledge that she’s mine. That she’ll never get another opportunity to run from me—I’ll keep her chained to my side if I have to, but I don’t think it’ll come to that. She fell asleep with me touching her, which is a promising start. I’ll gain her body’s trust, bit by bit, until she no longer flinches when I move in her vicinity. At the same time, I’ll work on her mind.
And maybe, just maybe, that’ll culminate in me managing to steal her heart.
I sleep like the dead that night, which is no doubt helped by the monitor I have on my nightstand, showing a live stream from the cameras hidden in Scarlett’s temporary room. I want her out of there and in my bed as soon as possible, but that’ll take some time and prep work. I want her towantto leave the punishment room, to join me in my bed—but even if she doesn’t get to that point as quickly as I’d like, I’ll have her here anyways.
I’m up early in the morning. I spend about an hour working out, after which I get an alert from the motion-sensors in Scarlett’s room, informing me that she’s woken up. I grab our breakfast from the kitchen and head back to my apartment. After a quick pit-stop by my bedroom to pick up a very expensive gift I had made for Scarlett, I go to her designated holding room.
When I unlock the door, I see her doing sit-ups by her bed, sweat running down her naked body. We both freeze at the same time… and then, she’s scrambling back into the bed, hiding her nudity under the bedsheets.
“Good morning,” I greet her. “Don’t interrupt your routine on my behalf. You have nothing I haven’t seen, licked, and bitten before.” I tilt my head to the side. “Do you work out every morning?” The file Toby compiled on her didn’t mention any gym memberships.
She gives a half-shrug in response.
“Training yourself to try to run away again?” I ask. My tone is teasing, but there’s something hard beneath it. I’m under no illusions;I know Scarlett despises me right now. She tried to shoot me and then turn the gun on herself just a day ago. If she got the chance to leave, she would. I’d bet she’s going to scramble to find a chance to slip away again.
Scarlett wisely doesn’t respond to my question.
I take her silence as agreement, but decide not to press the issue just yet. Instead, I stroll inside and set the tray of breakfast food on the metal table in the center of the room. Scarlett’s eyes immediately shutter.
“Come here,” I say, crooking a finger. “Breakfast time.”
Her lips thin and she shakes her head. “Not there.”
“It wasn’t a question. Easy way or hard way, Scarlett. I’m sure you noticed that this chair is well-equipped to hold you in place. If your disobedience forces me to restrain you, I’ll have to punish you. Do you really want another punishment so soon?”
Her lips seal. She tugs at the thin bedsheet as she stands, trying to use it to cover herself.
“Leave the sheet,” I instruct her. “You’ll get clothes after breakfast if you’re a good girl, but when I don’t give you any, that’s because I want you naked. Don’t try to cover yourself.”
She gives me a furious look but keeps her mouth shut. She takes a step toward the table, and then another… and then her eyes fog up, and she freezes in place.
I recognize what’s happening; she’s having the sort of memories she needs to overcome. I abandon my spot near the table and approach her. She snaps out of her daze with an audible gasp and attempts to scramble back, but I catch her hand and pull her into me.
“This is not the cell,” I tell her firmly. “This is a very different sort of room. You are not going to be tortured with pain here, or anywhere, ever again. Not while you have me. Do you understand?”
Her throat works as she swallows, casting another glance at the table and promptly squeezing her eyes shut. “Not there,” she says, shaking her head. “Please, not there.”
There’s a duality to this woman that fascinates me. She’s undoubtedly one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, but she also has glaring pressure points and vulnerabilities sitting behind sky-high, reinforced defensive walls.
“Flower, look at me.” When she doesn’t, I grab her shoulders and give her a slight shake. “Look at me.”
Her eyes snap open, fixing on mine.
“I punished you last night. Did I hurt you?”
