It takes her several moments to shake her head.
“After I took you out of that cell, did I hurt you again?”
Fire sparks in her eyes. “You took my—”
“You hadn’t told me you were a virgin. If you had, I would’ve approached that situation very differently. I regret how that night went down. Aside from that, and the night I had a bad reaction to you waking me up, have I hurt you?”
“Not while you were sound of mind.” She swallows again. “But you haven’t exactly shown me you’re a model citizen when it comes to sanity.”
“I will not hurt you,” I repeat yet again. It’s a mantra I suspect I’ll need to get used to uttering with Scarlett, because of the unfortunate way we met. “I’m many terrible things, Scarlett, but I’m a man of my word.”
“I don’t believe you,” she whispers, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide, and she appears so very innocent. Soexposed.
“You don’t have to. I’ll prove it to you through actions.” I cup her chin. “Take a seat at the table, Scarlett. Don’t make a fuss. Breakfast will be over quickly enough.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispers.
I don’t think she’s just referring to the table. She means all of this, everything I’ve done to her since initially capturing her. Everything I’ll go on to do to her. My obsession with her, my love for her.
“Because you were always meant to be mine,” I say simply.
“You’re insane.”
I tap her nose. “Maybe so, but it doesn’t change the truth.” I slowly step back from her and take her hand. She allows me to lead her to the table with great reluctance, posture slumped. She resists a little when I gently push her into the seat, but a hard look from me makes her ass hit the metal.
Her eyes go foggy again, clouded with what’s probably another memory. I cup her chin in my hand and redirect her attention to me, picking up a forkful of scrambled eggs and holding it up to her lips. With a defeated sigh, she parts them and lets me feed her, looking extremely uncomfortable.
Her discomfort doesn’t ebb through the duration of breakfast. I know it’ll take more than a single meal at this table to help her overcome her fear of it, but it’s a start. Once she’s eaten all she can—which is nowhere near enough—I feed myself as an afterthought and push away the tray of food.
She folds her arms over her chest and crosses her legs, training her gaze on her lap.
“Uh-uh,” I say with a shake of my head. “No, Scarlett. You look at me. You stay with me.” I let her shield her body for now, allowing her that small bit of agency. But I want her eyes on me.
“I don’t know what you’re hoping to achieve here,” she says, fixing me with an accusing stare. “I’m never going to care about you. I’ll never accept you, or any part of this situation. I’llnever—”
“You already care about me,” I interrupt. “Otherwise, you would’ve let the poison kill me.”
“I didn’t save you for your sake,” she hisses. “I did it so I could live with myself.”
“Don’t pretend you’re a pacifist, Scarlett. You were fully ready to shoot me and then yourself in your apartment.”
“That was different.”
“How?” I question. “What was the difference between you poisoning my tea and pointing a gun at me?”
“You had just told me you loved me!”she snaps. Her eyes widen and her body stiffens, and she seals her lips.
“Me telling you I loved you affected your decision to kill me back then,” I say with a hum. “Interesting. You’ll tell me more about that later. What changed at your apartment?” When she doesn’t respond, I give her a hard look. “Scarlett. Don’t be rude.”
She finally unseals her lips, looking away. “I thought you might’ve gotten over your delusion. I knew you were there to bring me to my death… whether it was immediate or preceded by torture.” The way she speaks tells me shestillthinks there’s a chance I’m going to kill her.
Only time will disabuse her of that notion.
“We’ll come back to that soon. For now, I have something for you.” I draw the item I dropped five figures on out of my pocket. It’s a glittering chain of small white diamonds strung together. There are two rows of jewels, and the second row also has teardrop-shaped crystals dangling from it. It doesn’tlooklike a traditional collar, which is the point of this collar. It’s not only a symbol of my ownership; it’s a symbol of Scarlett’s value to me.
“Hold back your hair,” I tell her, pausing when I see she’s staring at the necklace with a look of abject horror. She watches it as if it’s ahissing serpent that’s about to bite her instead of a necklace that costs more than most people’s annual income.
“What is that?” she whispers.
