Evidence of submission training. Demonstration of restraint tolerance. Assessment of pain threshold.
"He wants to see her pain threshold? He is a sick fuck. Camilla is right."
"It’s standard evaluation for his type of acquisition. He needs to know she can handle his preferences."
I set down the tablet before I put my fist through it. "And if I refuse these requirements?"
"He withdraws his offer. Says he's not interested in untested merchandise."
Untested merchandise.
I’m going to kill this fucking bastard with my bare hands. And I’ll enjoy every second of it.
"What about Al-Rashid? Does he have similar requirements?"
"More traditional. Conversation, appearance assessment, basic personality evaluation. Much less hands-on."
I should be relieved. Al-Rashid is clearly the better option, less violent, more controlled. But the thought of any man evaluating her, comparing her to other women he's owned, deciding whether she's worth his money.
"Boss? What do you want me to tell Kozlov's people?"
"Tell him we'll discuss specifics at the viewing. Nothing gets agreed to in advance."
"He might not like that."
"He can like it or leave. His choice."
Matteo studies my face carefully. "Boss, can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"Are you sure you're still okay with this arrangement? Because you seem invested in the training process. I thought all this was supposed to be about putting pressure on her families? It seems to be turning into something else."
"This will all be over soon."
"Of course. It's just... well, you've been different since this started. More on edge. Less focused on other business."
"The other businesses are running fine."
"Yes, sir. But maybe it would help to get some distance from her. I could arrange for someone else to handle things from here."
"No. I’ll handle it. All of it."
The irony of this screwed up situation isn't lost on me. I've spent my entire career taking what I want, controlling every situation,bending others to my will. But Camilla Colombo has turned the tables completely.
She's the one in control now. Because she's made me want something I can't have.
Made me need something I have to give away.
Made me fall for someone I'm supposed to sell.
And tomorrow, when I tie her to my bed and teach her submission, we'll both find out exactly how much torture I can endure before something cracks completely.
I finish my scotch and head upstairs, knowing sleep won't come. Instead, I'll lie awake thinking about silk scarves and soft skin and the sound she made when I lost control.
Thinking about a woman who's teaching me that power isn't about what you can take.
It's about what you can't bear to lose.
