“And if she tries, grab her hair or jaw, force her mouth open, and rub your fingers over her tongue. Show her that she can comply off the bat, or she can be forced—this’ll teach her that compliance is in her best interest. Then, you reinforce that by holding her. Soft caresses,gentle touches, words of praise—genuine ones.Youneed to believe in this process as much as you want her to. You need to be all in if you want her to be all in. Plan to spend double the time on aftercare as you do on any scene or exertion of dominance. If you’re really into the eating routine, make it a ritual. Knowing her, she’ll fight it at first.”
“And she’ll fight aftercare just as hard. She didn’t want me to touch her before, so she certainly won’t be accepting of it after I get her back.WhenI get her back.” She hadjuststopped flinching every time I moved in her vicinity before she poisoned me.
Poisoned me.Almost killed me, but went back at the last moment and saved my life. Each time I think of that, I’m filled with equal parts anger and admiration. My clever,clevergirl was playing chess while I was playing checkers. She played me like a fiddle, and while I’mso damn angryabout it, I’m also proud of her. My chosen woman is as cunning and smart as they come. Once she’s truly become mine and accepted me, that’ll work in my favor. She’ll see things I don’t, be able to plan in a way I don’t. I imagine she’d be brilliant in organizing ops and contingencies.
I fantasize about a future like that as much as I look forward to the battle of wills that it’ll take to get there. I imagine sitting in my office with her on my lap, and having her go over my and my operative’s plans. Telling me what I’m missing. What I neglected yet she noticed.
God, she’ll be so fucking perfect, and I’ll make sure she’s mine,if I find her.No,whenI find her. Toby’s close. I’m close to having her back in my arms, under my control. The thought of having her once again is the only thing keeping me centered.
“You’ll get her back,” Max assures me. “Very soon, which means you need to make plansright now.Every day has to have a purpose, and there need to be rest days after push days. If you go hard on her in a scene, if you punish and break her so you can put her back together,you need to plan ondaysof aftercare—make your schedule around it. She shouldn’t leave your side after a moment of vulnerability, whether she hands over power to you or you take it, because that gives you an opening to become her rock. Now, let’s talk about the risks.”
“She’ll try to kill me again.” I know she will, and the thought makes me smile. I won’t give her a single opportunity to.
“Aside from the obvious,” Max quips. “You’ll be conditioning her in harsh, thorough ways, and no amount of perfect aftercare will guarantee that she doesn’t withdraw into herself to escape the turmoil. I’ve seen it happen—especially when I was undercover in that disgusting fucking ring.” He shakes his head, looking reviled. “Women,girlspushed so far they shut off from the world just to escape the pain.”
“I won’t be hurting her.” I’m still committed to the promise I made her; I’llneverhurt her again. I’ll make her do things that’ll probably make her wish I was spanking her or giving her corporal punishments, but she won’t get off that easy.
Pain is so… predictable. Other things hit much harder, reach much deeper.
“Doesn’t matter. Emotional pain always supersedes physical pain. Tell me, Grey, will she behappyto see you again?”
I don’t have to respond for Max to know the answer. OfcourseScarlett won’t be happy to see me again—she’ll be terrified and possibly murderous. I’ll need to subdue her right off the bat.
And once I manage to get herhere… that’s where the fun will begin.
Chapter Two
Scarlett
“So… any chance you’d want to get that drink tonight?”
I’ve heard this request from Cedric numerous times. He’s young, attractive, and brilliant. He’s almost as crafty as I am when it comes to our work at the university—almost. In another life, I might’ve agreed to go out on a date with him.
Not now. Now, I can appreciate his blond locks that glimmer under the fluorescent light of the lab, his warm smile, and his mild mannerisms. I can admire his qualities. But I can’t bring myself to look at him for too long, let alone touch him. Going out with him is out of the question.
I give him a wan smile, shrugging off my lab coat and folding it over my arm. “Sorry,” I say, picking up my purse. “I have a date with my cat.”
He chuckles. “That’s the answer you give me every time I ask.” He scratches his head. “Are you… are you dating someone else?”
I smile wanly. “No, Ced. I just… had a pretty bad situation with someone before I moved to town. I’m not really looking for anything physical… or romantic.” I’m just trying to heal and take things one day at a time. I still go through terrible periods; moments when I struggle getting out of bed, when the memories of my time in that cell are so intrusive, so visceral, it feels like I’m being tortured all over again.
The depression is bad. The panic attacks are worse. For the first month after my escape, while Eric was getting me set up to move somewhere far away from my old school, I was a fucking mess. Eric insisted on me seeing a mental health professional who prescribed me a collection of pills that numbed out the pain… and made me forget my own name. I flushed those down the toilet and resolved to deal with my shit on my own, without outside help.As I always have.
Even though the bad periods make time feel like it’s slowing to a crawl… I know I’m getting better, inch by inch. I still look over my shoulder. I still assume that people will exploit or hurt me rather than help me. But, at least I can smile at my coworkers and survive on the fringes of society.
Understanding flashes in Cedric’s eyes. Like I said, in a different life, I might’ve had interest in him—whether or not I would’ve acted on it. He’s lean, fit, and classically charming. Polite and very well-mannered. Comes from a wealthy family, yet chose to pursue academia. Both of us are doing lab work at the university we graduated from a few months ago in hopes that our professor will give us stellar recommendation letters for Ph.D programs.
“Got it,” he says, nodding. “I’m sorry for asking so many times.”
A morsel of guilt pangs through my chest. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously. You’re lovely, and in case you haven’t noticed, Cecilia has her eyes on you.”
Cece has been working here for well over a year, yet she hasn’t done anything impressive enough to earn a stellar recommendation. To be fair, she’s not a terrifically hard worker, and she spends most of our time in the lab giving Cedric fuck-me eyes rather than researching and experimenting, as we’re supposed to do.
Cedric smiles a bit, shaking his head. “She’s not my type.”
“What’s your type?”
He gazes right at me. “Girls who are so smart, it doesn’t matter if they’re beautiful. Their brains are attractive enough alone.”
