I turn to look at him. The city is a glittering map beyond the windows, snow still pattering gently against the panes. In that moment, all I can think about is my sister.
“Yes to what?”
“Nothing in particular. I simply want to hear you say it. I want you to become more at ease with the word. You’ll be saying it quite a bit, after all.”
I take a deep breath.
“Yes.”
His hand comes to the side of my throat, two fingers resting against my pulse. For a moment, I half expect him to bare vampire fangs and drink my blood. He sure as hell looks the part.
“Again,” he says.
“Yes.”
He drops his hand lower, his thumb tracing the line of my collarbone. My pussy clenches, and I can feel my panties getting wet. How is this man, this tyrant, able to turn me on so easily?
“Once again, three rules,” he says. “Rule number one, privacy. What happens between us stays between us. No gossip, no slips, no half-truths to outsiders. You are mine while you are here, and that is nobody else’s business.”
His thumb pauses briefly before he speaks again.
“Rule number two, precision. When I say stand, you stand. When I say speak, you speak. When I say eyes, you look at me. No hesitation, no improvising. And no attitude. Precision keeps you safe. It keeps me in control.”
I shiver, caught between wanting to argue and knowing I should obey.
“Rule number three,” he continues, “truth. You do not lie to me. Not about what you want, not about what you feel, not aboutwho you are. I’ll take ugly truths over pretty lies every time. Break this one, Cassandra, and we’re finished. Understood?”
“Understood.”
He nods.
“Kneel.”
My knees instantly find the rug. It is impossibly soft and plush.
“Hands behind you,” he says.
I lace my fingers at the small of my back. He studies me, heat moving throughout my entire body.
“Good,” he says. “Very good.”
I hate how much I love the praise. He reaches down, tracing my jaw with one knuckle.
I’m eye level with his manhood when a surprising thought crosses my mind. If he told me to pleasure him right then and there, I’m unsure how I would respond.
“Tell me why you are here,” he says.
“Because I need money,” I answer.
He crouches in front of me, so we are eye to eye.
“You learn quickly.”
He rises. I remain where I am until he says, “Stand.”
He gives me a once-over. “Naturally, you will live with me. Not here, but at my villa on Long Island. You will receive clothing, and you will wear what I send when I say. You will respond to messages within five minutes. You will not accept invitationswithout my prior consent. You will not use intoxicants unless I give you permission. You will not place yourself in danger.”
“Does working for you count?”
