“It’s the one good thing about being an insomniac. I never miss the sunrises.”
She glanced back at me, and I realized how easily I’d given away that piece of myself. I imagined the staff at the house knew I slept little, but no one else.
Lucia returned her gaze to the sky. I watched her framed by this show of lights.
“How long have you been like that? Unable to sleep, I mean.”
“As long as I can remember.” I was twenty-nine now so maybe fifteen years.
We watched the sunrise in silence. When the sun had crested, she turned to me, her whiskey eyes shining bright, the accusations of last night absent this morning, although her gaze remained cautious.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she finally said, her arms folded across her chest, defensive and closed.
“That makes two of us.”
She scrunched up her forehead. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not a monster, Lucia, but I am my father’s son. I am obligated, just as you are.” She studied me. “You choose how hard you want to make this on yourself. There are worse things than being in my care.”
“In yourcare?”
“Yes, my care. It could have been my brother. Or my father. Where do you think you’d be if it had been either of them instead of me?”
“I don’t see the difference.”
Her words got to me. “Fine, let me simplify this for you. You’re to be obedient.”
“I don’t even know what that means. Do you expect me to just…” She glanced away, a blush creeping up her neck to her cheeks. “What do you want?” she finally asked, straightening, obviously forcing herself to look at me.
“Your obedience.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but I stepped closer to her and placed my finger over her lips.
“Hear my words, Lucia. Iexpectyour obedience. I didn’t say want. I own you, no matter how you feel about that. I can makethis good for you.” I couldn’t keep my gaze from wandering to the soft swell of her breasts before they returned to hers. “Or I can make it bad. It’s up to you how this goes.”
“It was supposed to be my sister,” she said, a sheen of tears obscuring her eyes.
Looking at her, helpless, alone—and she was alone—only made me want to comfort and reassure her. So opposite what I was supposed to do.
“But she got herself pregnant.” She turned her back to me and wiped one hand across her eyes before turning and looking at me again. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here. Are you…” she floundered again. “Do you… Fuck. Never mind.”
Without warning, she bolted back toward the house, her pace faster now. I followed easily, keeping a short distance between us, unsure how to answer her questions, not knowing myself what the hell I wanted from her. Her obedience, what the hell did that mean? That she sit when I say sit and fetch when I say fetch? It was so much more than that. A woman like Lucia DeMarco didn’t simply give her submission. A man would have to earn it.
Or break her to take it.
“Lucia,” I called out when we drew near the back entrance to the house, the large sliding glass doors of the dining room standing open.
She glanced back but ran into the house. I followed, seeing the blur of a maid setting the table for breakfast.
“Lucia!” I was only a few steps behind her, and when she stumbled over the last stair to the second floor, I caught her around the waist and lifted her, holding her to me. I saw then why she’d run. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyes were puffy again, her face flushed.
For a moment, I faltered.
For one moment, I was human.
But then I looked down at her. I watched her struggle uselessly as I held her tight.
“Lucia,” I whispered this time, snaking a hand up her back, the feel of her body moving against mine making me forget everything else.
