Chapter Six
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Henri
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MY TEETH TORE INTO A wonderfully warm baguette with lashings of ice-cold butter.
I’d never tasted anything so delicious.
I couldn’t remember ever having such a voracious appetite.
I’d only slept a couple of hours before my stomach woke me for another meal, and I’d stepped into the most sublime morning, walking around in hyperawareness.
My deliberate cold shower felt like pristine snow against my skin.
My toothbrush like minty bubbles in my mouth.
Even my clothes felt better than usual, and they weren’t even mine.
The grey t-shirt and jeans I’d chosen from the wardrobe were far more like my usual style back home before I had to pretend to be a rich son of a bitch who lived in tailored suits and rubbed shoulders with sadists.
But...I didn’t have to pretend anymore.
I was a rich son of a bitch, and...for the first time in my sorry excuse of a life, I was brave enough to call myself a sadist.
Sadist.
I chuckled as I ripped off another hunk of bread.
Sadist...
What exactly did that word mean?
I’d never really bothered to look it up.
All I knew was it meant someone who got off on inflicting pain or humiliation on others. Well...if that was the true definition, I’d been doing that my entire life. To myself. But at least the masochistic part of me was dead and buried and this morning was just. So. Fucking. Glorious.
Reaching for the sweating butter, I added another curl just as thirty jewels, in boxers, negligees, and nakedness, tumbled out of Victor’s castle and tripped into the garden.
In a flurry of feet, they darted to the front of the deck and kneeled, one by one, into a tidy horizontal line with bowed heads and praying hands.
Victor strolled out from the banquet room that spilled with its many open doors onto the deck, his right hand holding a plate topped high with sugary treats.
Behind him, the huge dining room with carved architraves and exquisite works of erotic art, held a buffet fit for a court of a hundred kings, offering delicacies from roasted pheasant to saffron-infused scrambled eggs.
His team of waitstaff inconspicuously kept everything flowing, even with quite a few men selecting their favourite dishes.
The barista who hand-delivered my latte—the perfect accompaniment to my fresh-out-of-the-oven baguette—must’ve roasted the beans in fucking heaven because I’d never tasted such a fine brew.
Everything tastes better when you’re free.
I smirked.
Fuck yes, it did.
And the best part?
I wouldn’t be seeing any of it later.
My pathetic sickness was over.
Resting his plate of mini pastries on my table, Victor slipped his hands into his silver slacks and strolled to the edge of the deck. Rocking on his heels, he surveyed his jewels as if they truly were sheep who’d been drawn into a tight flock.
Halfway down the line, my gaze snagged on Ily.
My heart quickened.
Desire pricked my veins.
Her skin glowed in the golden sunshine, highlighting a few ugly band-aids hiding the cuts I’d given her. She kept her chin low and eyes hooded. Her blue-black hair shimmered with sapphires but looked unkempt.
Shifting forward in my chair, I narrowed my eyes.
In fact, blood still smudged her in places. A perfect crimson fingerprint on her left breast where I’d squeezed as I’d driven my tongue inside her.
She hasn’t showered.
If someone shone a blacklight on her, they’d see streaks of my cum between her legs.
I’m still inside her.
My cock rose.
I pressed it down.
Last night had been the best orgasm of my life; I wanted another.
Now.
I wanted to fuck her in the light of day. In front of others, I didn’t care. I wanted to test my power and hammer a nail into the coffin of the heartsick idiot I used to be.
“Is there something you wish to tell me, my sweetlings?” Victor smiled kindly, interrupting my fantasy of snapping my fingers and summoning Ily to blow me under the table.
The tiniest part of me still feared that regret would swarm the moment I saw Ily again.
Could I truly, fundamentally change in a single night?
But...seeing her now?
That answer was yes.
Yes, I was changed.
Yes, I was free.
But most of all...I was still me.
Still me and open to all feelings—no longer wanting to ignore any of them. That heady rush of possession and aggressive wave of jealousy only made my need for her erupt into a fever I never wanted to cure.
You’re never going back...are you?
The inner voice sounded like a wing-torn angel who’d judged and tormented me my entire life.
I chuckled under my breath and shook my head.
No, I was never going back.
Not for anyone or anything.
Not for a brother I didn’t know or a girl I’d only just met.
I liked my little nightmare.
I still liked my little nightmare.
But why would I ever want to free her when the outside world didn’t understand me, my blood kin wanted to kill me, and the girl I part owned could run away from me?
Fuck that.
I’m home.
She’s home.
And we’re never leaving.
Victor huffed when no one responded to his heavily veiled, dangerously soft question. His loafers skimmed the deck as he paced up and down, up and down. Clucking his tongue, he said, “Let’s start off easy, shall we?”
A few heads came up before ducking quickly.
“Can someone please explain why my security footage showed all my precious jewels were missing from their beds this morning?”
Shoulders hunched; hands balled.
“Or perhaps you can explain why you all ended up in a skin sandwich on the vault room’s floor?”
Ily flinched and raised her head. With bravery glittering in her strange golden stare, she opened her mouth to—
“I had a nightmare,” Peter blurted. “I, eh...woke them by accident, and they followed me into the gem room.” He hung his head. “They were only trying to console me, Sir V. I’m sorry—”
“Ah, Peter.” Victor ran a hand over his mouth. “Will you ever stop trying to take the blame?”
Peter hunched lower.
Ily inched closer, pressing her naked thigh to his linen-covered one.
A flare of annoyance cut through me. I put down my baguette before I throttled it.
A stagnant pause before Victor quit his pacing and faced his row of bruised and obedient jewels.
For the first time, I noticed some of them were missing a few pieces.
A finger, an ear...
My heart stung for a moment, then went quiet.
Butchering people wasn’t on my list of proclivities, but I had no morality left to judge those who did.
“You know lying never works because I see all things.” He tossed a smirk over his shoulder, looking directly at me.
My instincts prickled.
What the fuck was that?
Looking back at his slaves, Victor added, “The skin sandwich I can tolerate. Everyone needs some comfort once in a while, and I’m not such a harsh Master to deny you a platonic hug every now and again.
However...” His voice grew icicles. “I saw a kiss that shouldn’t have happened, and my guests were inconvenienced by all of you being late.
” He tapped his Rolex. “Twenty-three minutes late to be exact.” He sighed dramatically. “Whatever shall I do with you?”
Marching to my side, Victor placed a hand on my shoulder. “Henri, you decide. After all, the kiss involved the jewel you paid so handsomely for.”
“Excuse me?” My voice darkened. “Ily kissed someone?”
Her chin tipped up, defiant or just despairing...I couldn’t tell.
Our eyes met for the first time since I’d sunk inside her last night.
I waited all over again for some shred of the idiotic tosser I’d been. For crushes and obsessions to pounce.
But my head remained clear.
She belonged to me. Her every breath, touch, kiss, and fuck was mine.
So who the hell dared to steal one?
Standing slowly, I narrowed my eyes on Peter.
“You.” I stalked toward the edge of the deck. “I told you last night what would happen if you ever touched her.”
Other guests settled deeper into their chairs, sipping coffees and biting into berry muffins. Silence fell in the gardens. Even the birdsong and happy crickets quietened.
Peter kept his eyes on the grass.
The same grass where I’d finally sunk into the epiphany that I was free.
Flexing my hands, punishments collided in my head.
A whipping might be apt.
Castration was probably going too far.
Slipping my hand into my pocket, I fingered the black device that brought such swift discipline. Pulling it out, I let all the jewels see what rested in my palm. As expected, a few whimpers rang out, followed by an entire line-up stiffening into stone.
Ily dared to press closer to Peter, fucking me right off.
Spinning on the spot, I raised the electrocution remote. “Is this what you had in mind for discipline, Vic?”
Victor chuckled and sat in the very same chair I’d vacated.
Very delicately, he pushed aside my half-eaten breakfast and folded his hands in his lap. The way he moved reminded me of a cat about to kill something. The way he watched me said I was his prey.
Which didn’t make a shred of fucking sense.
I frowned as Victor watched two black-suited guards roll out a narrow table with a large flatscreen on it. Once it was in prime position on the deck, he nodded his thanks as a retreating guard placed a remote control beside my abandoned coffee cup.
Picking it up, Victor stroked it like it was a pet anaconda. “I’ll answer your little question in a moment, Ward, but first...indulge me in some of mine.”
I didn’t like the way he stressed my last name.
I didn’t like that he smiled at me the same way he smiled at his godforsaken jewels.
The old me would’ve broken into icy sweat by now.
The new and improved me just stood there.
Bold and careless.
Crossing my arms, I tipped my chin. “Got something on your mind, Victor?”
“I do actually. Allow me to show you.” Angling the remote at the TV, he clicked it on and revealed a scene that felt like foggy déjà vu.
Drifting a little closer to the screen so the sun glare didn’t obscure details, I frowned at the still image of my arms wrapped tight around Ily, my mouth pressed to the corner of her eye, her naked body draped over my lap on the busy acorn-motif carpet of the library.