And hated myself a little for it.
Because this is supposed to be about her liberation, not my gratification.
But I'm starting to realize I can't separate the two anymore.
Can't pretend this is purely strategic when my body responds to her like she's air and I've been drowning.
My phone rings, shattering the silence.
Different number this time.
I check the screen.
Victor Hargrove.
Fuck.
I consider not answering.
Consider letting it go to voicemail.
But Victor doesn't call at one in the morning unless it's important.
And ignoring a Consortium inner circle member is never wise, especially when you're being considered for said inner circle yourself.
I answer. "Hargrove."
"Sutherland." His voice is smooth, cultured, the accent that comes from old money and older power, from generations of men who've never been told no. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"It's one in the morning."
"Yes, well, some of us keep late hours. Besides, I assumed you'd still be awake. New acquisition and all. I remember my first—couldn't sleep for weeks." He laughs, the sound making my skin crawl. "I wanted to check in about your purchase. See how you're settling in with her."
My jaw tightens. I force my voice to stay level. "She's fine."
"Just fine? You paid two million for her, Sutherland. I expected a more enthusiastic review. Geoffrey Morrison has been absolutely effusive about his acquisition from the same auction. Says she's already quite... accomplished."
The implication makes my stomach turn.
"She's adjusting," I say carefully. "It takes time to build the right dynamic."
"Hmm. Yes, I suppose it does. Though some of the other buyers from that auction have reported quite satisfactory experiences already. Morrison's girl was performing oral sex within forty-eight hours. Richard's new toy begs so prettily he can't resist her. But then again, they have more experience with acquisitions than you do."
"Different approaches for different results."
"Indeed. Which brings me to why I'm calling." Victor's voice takes on a sharper edge.
"I'm not interested in compliance, Hargrove. I'm interested in willing participation."
Victor laughs, and the sound is like nails on slate. "Willing. How quaintly romantic. But Sutherland, you do understand that's not really the point of these acquisitions, don't you? We don't buy them to court them. We don't waste time on their feelings or their comfort or their supposed agency. We buy them toownthem. Tousethem. To demonstrate our power."
"I'm aware of the Consortium's philosophy."
"Are you? Because I'm starting to wonder. You've been a member for five years. Never participated in an auction before, always found excuses to avoid our gatherings, kept yourself at the periphery. Then suddenly you bid two million on a virgin cult escapee—outbidding some very powerful men, I might add—and now you're talking about 'willing participation' like you're dating her instead of owning her."
I force my voice to stay level, to not reveal the anger building in my chest. "My methods are my own business."
"Normally, yes. But when you're being considered for inner circle membership, Sutherland, your methods become everyone's business. We need to know you understand how this works. How power works. How control works. How to take what you want and keep it without all this—" He pauses with theatrical disdain. "—sentiment."
