“Jacob’s fault?” he supplied, amusement curling at the edge of the words. “You’re so protective of him… it’s almost adorable. However, fault is irrelevant. Responsibility is not. You signed a contract agreeing to function as my willing prisoner for the duration of this Game. You agreed to the rules, and you agreed to submit to punishment when you break those rules. You agreed to behave as a wife would when asked, because that is the role you’re competing for. It wasn’t very wifely of you to sneak around behind my back and make out with a member of my staff like a horny teenager… was it, darling?”
Heat and dread tangled in my stomach.
“No, sir. You’re right. That wasn’t the sort of thing your wife should do at all.”
“I’m going to punish you, Miss Jones,” he said calmly. “For your lateness. For the disruption. For letting Jacob get close enough that I’m half tempted to cut his fucking tongue out because it touched something that, contractually speaking, belongs to me until the Game is over or until you lose.”
I sucked in a sharp gasp.
“Please, don’t?—”
“You will take your punishment well,” he continued, cutting off my plea not to hurt Jacob for what I’d done. “You will rememberthat you consented to this when you accepted my invitation. And if you endure what I decide to give you tonight without breaking? If you do that, I will reward you.”
“Reward me how?” I asked, hating the little tremor in my voice.
“I’ll soothe the sting of your punishment, and you’ll be allowed to stay,” he said simply. “You’ll keep your place in the Game. You’ll have another chance to fight for that money you’re so desperate for. For your grandmother. For your pride.”
His hand wrapped around my throat, then, and he gave a measured squeeze, as if to silently remind me that he could and would break me if I provoked him.
“And if I don’t?” I whispered.
“Then you go home,” he said. “And Jacob’s sacrifice will have been for nothing.”
The room seemed to shrink around us. He let the words hang between us like a noose.
“Last chance to back out, little doll,” he said quietly. “Stand up, walk to the door, and I’ll have someone escort you to your car. No prize. No more tests. No more anything.”
I stayed frozen, sitting on the edge of the bed. My hands curled tighter in the blanket, knuckles aching.
“I’m not backing out,” I said. “I can’t.”
“Such a good girl,” he murmured.
The praise slid down my spine like something molten. My heart slammed into my ribs.
“Thank you for the second chance, sir.”
“Then we begin,” he said.
The mattress dipped again as he shifted closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming with its mix of scent, heat, and the quiet authority in his every breath.
“Remember your rules from here on in, darling,” he said softly, his thumb brushing once over the hollow of my throat. “No names. No kissing. No falling in love with the wrong person.”
His fingers tightened around my throat, just a fraction.
“And remember this, Miss Jones,” he added, velvet voice gone dark. “Whatever happens next is both punishment and proof. Show me you can take it… and I’ll let you stay.”
I swallowed hard, braced myself, and waited for the first line I wouldn’t come back from.
“Yes, sir.”
“Stand up,” he commanded, using his grip on my throat to help me to my feet before my brain fully processed that I’d intended to follow his order anyway.
I licked my lips.
“What now, sir?”
“Now, I want you to stand very still for me. Can you do that, darling?” Something in his voice made my blood run cold.
