Page 249 of The Sacred Scar


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Something in me stretched at the praise. Only then did I notice the second message from him sitting just above the voice note, unread in my distraction.

I need you today. Clear your afternoon. Block 14:00–19:00 for me.

My heart skipped.

That reads suspiciously like a booty call, Mr Crow.

Watch your mouth, Ms Thorne.

I am a respectable dynasty leader. I would never send a booty call in writing.

A laugh bubbled up before I could stop it.

So it’s an emotional support… appointment?

It’s your dom informing you he requires his sub’s presence.

I bit my lip, smile refusing to be contained.

Bold of you to assume I’m free.

He didn’t answer with text this time. The screen flashed with an incoming call: VINCENT.

I answered before the second ring.

“Good morning, Daddy.”

He exhaled, the sound going hot straight through the speaker. “That’s how we’re starting the day?”

“You asked me to adjust to the new settings. I’m adjusting.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, no attempt at restraint. I could hear the rustle of sheets on his end. “Morning, baby.”

“So. Explain your needy little message.”

“My needy little message,” he repeated, that almost-laugh I knew well sitting under the words. “You gonna mock me when I tell you I want you?”

“You saidneed,” I corrected. “Sounds very urgent. Very… booty-call coded.”

“Booty-call coded,” he echoed. “You and Rome need to stop talking.”

“We didn’t talk about you,” I lied badly.

He caught it immediately. “Liar.”

I grinned at the ceiling.

“So? Is it a booty call or not?”

“It’s a Vince call. Stronger than a booty call, more dangerous than a calendar invite.”

“That is not a category.”

“It is now.” I heard him shift, the faint creak of his mattress. “I need you today. I’ve had three days of men trying to out-stupid each other in boardrooms, and your debrief last night started with ‘I’m fine’ and ended with you writing five lines about feeling like glass. I’m done with screens for a minute. I want you in my bed where I can see how you’reactuallybreathing.”

Heat and relief tangled low in my chest.

“I have obligations. Breakfast. Handler. Water-rights call.”