“Sorry, master,” he corrected, pushing away from the wall as he approached her. “You may as well get used to it from the start.”
Heat crept up her neck. “Sorry… master,” she repeated, the word awkward on her tongue, and unsettling in how right it felt.
The approval in his eyes was subtle, but unmistakable. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Of course,” she said too quickly.
It was a blatant lie, and he didn’t let it pass. “Now try the truth.”
“I’m nervous,” she admitted.
“Which is why you’re here. To get used to my presence and my commands.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“I’ve secured one of the theme rooms. Dev pulled a few strings.”
He took her arm and led her through the house to the crowded back hallway. A guttural male shout echoed through the open playroom doors. Gaby flinched despite herself.
Rhys noticed. “Breathe,” he said softly.
On the other side of the corridor, he opened a door markedReserved. The room was dark until he flipped a switch. Wall sconces illuminated stone-textured walls. A velvet chair sat like a throne in the corner. Hooks and cables hung from the ceiling. She’d heard talk of the rigging room but had never been inside.
Gaby swallowed, her mouth dry. “What are we practicing in here?”
Rhys closed the door as he replied, “Presentation.”
“Like a trick pony,” she muttered.
He nudged up her chin. “Sarcasm shows disrespect, which would earn Camille punishment. Shall we begin there?”
“No, master. I’ll mind my tongue.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, running a finger along her jaw. “The role I’ve settled on is a master who disciplines promptly but rewards obedience. We’ll need to show both to be convincing.”
Her gaze snagged on the large window open to the hallway. Curious members were already gathering.
Rhys noticed where her attention had wandered. “Those remain open. Álvarez isn’t the type to host anything small or vanilla. You’ll need to be prepared for an audience.”
A tremor ran through her before she could stop it.
Rhys saw and stepped closer, his hand sliding down her arm in a slow, steadying stroke. “I’ll be right there with you,” he murmured, the quiet certainty in his voice settling under her skin.
“Thank you.”
“We’re a team on this op, Gaby,” he assured her. “Ready to continue?”
“Yes, master.”
“Very nice.” He left her side and moved to stand in front of the gilt-and-velvet chair. Then he pointed at the floor. “Come here, Camille.”
The alias centered her, reminding her this was a role she played. She crossed the room, each step a rehearsal for the deception ahead.
“First rule. You obey the moment I speak. No hesitation.”
“Yes, master.”
“Second rule. Eyes lowered unless I give permission.”
