"Several inner circle members have expressed interest in your acquisition. She's quite beautiful, and virgin acquisitions are rare these days. They'd like the opportunity to evaluate her more closely at the showcase."
"Evaluate how?"
"Oh, nothing invasive. Simply observe her up close. Perhaps test her obedience with a command or two. Geoffrey is particularly interested in seeing how she responds to unfamiliar authority figures. Thinks it demonstrates a higher level of training."
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. "Absolutely not."
"I'm sorry?"
"No one touches her. No one commands her. She'smine. That's the whole point of the showcase—demonstrating my control, my training. Not someone else's."
Victor's silence is pointed. "That's a rather possessive stance, Sutherland."
"It's an accurate stance. She belongs to me. I'm not sharing her with Geoffrey or anyone else."
"Even if refusing might impact your consideration for the inner circle?"
The threat is clear. Subtle, but clear.
"Even then."
Another pause.
"Interesting. You've become quite attached to her, haven't you?"
"She's my acquisition. Of course I'm protective of my property."
"It's more than that, I think. You care about her. That's foolish, Sutherland. Caring makes you weak. Makes you vulnerable. The inner circle doesn't tolerate weakness."
"Protecting what's mine isn't weakness. It shows my strength."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps you're allowing emotion to cloud your judgment." Victor's tone shifts to something almost paternal. "Let me give you some advice. Between now and then, decide what you really want. Power? Or the girl? Because you might not be able to have both."
He hangs up before I can respond.
Fuck, I need to decide what I really want.
As if it were that simple.
As if I haven't been asking myself that question for the past week.
Power or Eden.
The inner circle or the woman sleeping upstairs in my bed.
Everything I've worked for or everything I've discovered I actually want.
Six days to decide.
Six days to choose.
Fuck.
I find Eden in the library at ten on the dot, curled up in the armchair by the window with a book.
Jane Eyre, again, I notice.
She's read it three times since she arrived.
