I’m honest about it.
“If you don’t follow the rules,” I say, “you’ll be punished. Properly.”
She blinks once, slowly, like she’s sure she misheard. “Punished how?”
“Spanked,” I say. “Over my knee. Until the message sinks in.”
There’s a heartbeat of silence.
Then she laughs. It bursts out of her in a breathless, high sound. She slaps a hand over her mouth like she wishes she could shove it back inside.
My jaw tightens.
“You think it’s funny?” I ask. “Do I sound like I’m joking?”
She swallows fast. The laugh dies instantly. “No. I—I’m not laughing at you, I just—” She shakes her head once. “It came out. That’s all.”
“Anya,” I say. “If you break my rules, I will pull you over my knee and spank your bare ass until you remember who you belong to.”
Her breath catches so sharply her chest jumps against the coat. Colour floods her cheeks. Her eyes drop for a second, then drag themselves back up to my face like she’s forcing them.
“That’s barbaric,” she says.
“You asked.”
“That was not a serious question,” she mutters.
“It was serious enough.”
She mutters something in Russian under her breath. I catch the shape ofblyadin there and let it go. Her chin tilts, fear and attitude threaded together.
I step back to give her a little space. Her lungs drag in a longer breath, like her body hadn’t realized it could until now.
“We’re not done,” I say.
Her shoulders slump for a second. “Of course we’re not. Why would we be.”
I move to the little table by the fire where the chessboard waits. The pieces are already set—habit. I sit, then look across at her.
“Come here,” I tell her.
She doesn’t move immediately. She stands there in the middle of the room, wrapped in that coat, looking at me.
“Anya,” I say. “I said come here.”
She exhales through her nose and walks toward the table. The coat sways around her legs. Her boots make soft sounds on the wood. She stops across from me, hands still buried in her pockets.
“Sit,” I say, nodding to the chair opposite mine.
She stares at the chair, then at me. “Do I ever get to say no?”
“You just did,” I say. “And you’re still going to sit.”
She pulls in a breath and lowers herself into the chair. She perches on the edge, spine straight, knees together, as if being fully seated would be giving in too much.
I sit back in my own chair. The board between us is comfortable territory for me. It isn’t for her.
“We’re making a bet,” I say.
