"What?"
"I'm sorry."
The apology catches me off guard. Not because he said it, but because of how broken he sounds.
"Sorry doesn't change anything. Sorry doesn't undo what's going to happen."
"I know."
"Then why say it?"
He's quiet for a moment, staring at the floor. "Because I need you to know that this isn't what I wanted."
"Isn't it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you got exactly what you wanted. You got to own me, control me, train me. You got to have me without the complications of keeping me. And you get a shit ton of money on top of all that. You fell into a gold mine with me."
"That's not true."
"That's exactly what this is. You get to play with your toy before you sell it to someone else." I turn back to face him. "Tell me something. When they're examining me at the dinner party, what will you be thinking about?"
"Debts being paid."
"Will you? Or will you be thinking about how my skin felt under your hands? How I sounded when you made me lose control? How much you want to be the one touching me instead of them?"
His breathing has gone ragged again. "I'll be thinking about how much I wish things were different."
"But not enough to change them. Now get the fuck out of my sight. I need to prepare for my examination."
"How?"
"However, women prepare to be raped by strangers for money." I meet his eyes directly. "I'm sure you'll find the process fascinating to observe."
He leaves without another word, and I'm alone with the terrible knowledge of what the dinner party will bring.
But I've accomplished what I needed to.
I've forced him to face the reality of what he's doing. I've made him admit what he is, what this situation really means.
And most importantly, I've ensured he'll be there to witness every moment of what he's arranged.
Because maybe, just maybe, watching three men examine me will finally break whatever's left of his control.
Maybe seeing their hands on my body will make him remember what he's giving up.
Or maybe it will just make him hate himself enough to finally make a different choice.
Either way, there’s no going back now.
Chapter 22: Renato
I've stayed away from her room for two days.
Two days of silence. Two days of avoiding the third floor entirely, sending Matteo with her meals, pretending I have urgent business that keeps me locked in my study. The truth is I can't face her. Not after what she said. Not after she forced me to name exactly what I am.
You're a man who arranges for women to be raped and tortured for money.
The words have been playing on repeat in my head for forty-eight hours. Every time I close my eyes, I see her face when she said it—not angry, not even hateful. Just certain. Like she'd finally figured out a puzzle that had been bothering her.
She hates me now. I know it. Can feel it radiating from the third floor even when I'm nowhere near her room.
