Chapter Eleven
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Ily
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HENRI’S WORDS SPUN AROUND AND around in my head.
“My greatest weakness is you, and the day you understand that is the day our true games begin.”
The gardens swirled.
The pond shimmered.
Talking to him was like trying to write the rulebook on psychological warfare.
Trying to make him see that despite his perversions, he still had a soul only fell on deaf ears. My attempt at making him see he wasn’t like the others flew right over his head.
Can it be true?
Could he honestly be that clueless where feelings were concerned? Was he so denied affection and togetherness that he truly had no idea how to care for someone, how to love?
Good grief, that was terrifying, horrifying...the most alarming thing he could’ve said.
In trying to understand him, I’d found out the worst.
How could you manipulate someone who saw nothing wrong with hurting a girl they admitted they had feelings for? How the hell could he speak about monogamy in the same breath as wanting to hurt me?
I hated the word crazy after hearing it slung around so often about Krish, but...wow...I genuinely think he’s truly crazy.
Which meant I was in even more danger than I’d feared because crazy was unpredictable and capricious and—
“Finally!” Victor’s obnoxiously smooth French accent sailed from behind me. “I was beginning to think you’d died in your room.”
Letting me go, Henri stood politely. Pointing at a spare lounger, he grinned. “Morning. Or rather, afternoon.”
“Almost evening from where I’m standing.” Victor chuckled, sitting primly on the spare white-and-aqua-striped lounger. His black shorts and charcoal polo made him look like a soul-sucking parasite. His eyes flickered to me, collared, leashed, gagging on rage and fear.
“Bonjour, Ilyana. My, my, what a pretty name.” His voice tightened just a little. “Tell me, is that Arabic for sun ray and shining light?”
I went deathly, horribly still. “How...how do you know that?”
“I told you, I like to know everything I can about my jewels. I researched you, and even though your surname is Indian, your first name is not. It’s a bit of a conundrum and one I’d like to understand.”
Flashes of memories—told to me via my adoptive mother’s bedtime stories.
The note on my baby blanket.
The scribbled message from my birth mother, read by my highly sensitive brother and incorrectly deciphered, which landed me with a name that dwelled every day in my light-hazel eyes.
I would never give up that priceless moment.
Ever.
An even worse thought came.
He’d researched me.
He’d heard me mention the hospital where my father worked.
Krish—
Good God, Il...what have you done?
I yanked the leash out of Henri’s hand and went to swoop to my feet. Only, Henri clamped his large hand on my shoulder, keeping me kneeling.
I struggled, but his fingers bit deep and painful.
Hating him, I hissed at Victor, “You didn’t hurt my family, did you? Don’t hurt them. Don’t—” My voice ended in a choke.
Fuck, how could I be so stupid to give out my name, even on the microscopic chance that Henri’s brother might find me? I might’ve condemned them to thugs going around and murdering them.
“Ily, quiet.” Henri squeezed my shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” I scratched my nails over his wrist, desperate to fight. “Let me go. God, please let me go. I have to go back to him. He’ll be so worried. So scared.”
“Who will?” His voice darkened.
“Her brother,” Victor said without a ruffle. “He’s autistic. Very selective with who he speaks to apparently. Hasn’t spoken a word since she went to Paris.”
“Leave them the hell alone!” I hurled myself toward him.
Henri dragged me back. Hooking his fingers into my collar, he pressed me against his legs. “Calm down.”
“Tell him not to hurt them.”
“Sweetling, do I look like the type of man who goes around murdering innocent people?”
I coughed.
I literally couldn’t breathe correctly.
“Is that a trick question?” I wanted to rub my eyes and wash my ears out. “You’re a trafficking psychopath.”
“No, no, no, my pet, I’m a trafficking connoisseur.
” Glancing at the large pond-pool, watching a flittering emerald dragonfly, he said, “Besides, I have no need for your family. As long as you keep behaving like a good little jewel, I promise I won’t disrupt your loved ones’ lives any more than it already has been by losing you. ”
Tears.
Hot, agonising tears.
I wanted to cry.
To wail.
But I swallowed them back.
I would never, ever, not a single droplet, ever, ever cry again.
I’d made the vow in the shower. I reaffirmed it now.
Never.
No matter what they did to me.
No matter how bad it got.
Henri would never drink my sorrow again because one day, I would be the one drinking his tears. I would find a way to make a grown man weep.
No, not just weep, sob.
And then I would walk away and leave him in the same pieces he’d left me.
Pinning my attention on Victor, I couldn’t control my sick, shaking rage.
Without a word, I raised my hand and gave him the finger.
He laughed, then clucked his tongue at Henri. “Tell me, how goes the obedience training? Not that well, by the looks of things. Remember the twelve levels of ownership?”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Henri muttered, his fingers bruising my shoulder. “Something about ownership over her body, mind, pleasure, senses, impulses...”
“Submission, liberation, life, and soul.” Victor cupped his hands between spread legs.
“It’s a long process but very rewarding when you feel every layer break.
” Cocking his chin at me, he added, “You need to start on her lessons. I expect you to keep her in-line. I won’t have her disrupting my other jewels.
Already, Peter has behaved much better since she’s been missing from the stable for a few days. ”
My ribcage tightened, a wishbone stabbed into my heart. I wanted to ask about the others. Peter and Citra, Corine and Kirk. Sleep might have nullified everything, but now everything was far too sharp and real.
I want to see them.
“I have every intention of keeping her disciplined, Vic.” Henri’s grey gaze narrowed. “As long as you grant my request that she’s mine and only mine.”
Victor scowled. “Still making demands?”
“Still wanting what rightfully belongs to me.” He gathered my hair, letting the strands spill through his fingers. “We both know I saw her first. I think that accounts for something. After all, I’m here for life...if you’ll have me.”
Relaxing with a broad grin, Victor nodded.
“I must admit, I’ve greatly enjoyed having you here so far.
From the game of intrigue, the mystery of who you truly were, to the very enjoyable conversation with your brother.
” He laughed. “I can’t tell you how much it tickles me that I have a Mercer in my home.
And not just any Mercer but brother to the man who’s been a pain in my ass for decades. ”
“I’m glad I turned out to be so entertaining.”
Victor sobered up. “Three days, mon ami. I’ve seen some of my guests crash for a couple of days—tiredness always seems to spring the hardest when we take off our masks—but three?
Are you okay?” His eyes turned sly and seeking.
“No regrets? No wishing you could leave and run home to your little family?”
Henri shuddered. “He isn’t my family.” Cupping my shoulder, he stroked his thumb in that mocking Morse code, soft and seducing, sending prickles down my back. “Ily is now my family. You are now my family.”
“In that case...this is the time to clear up the last remaining rules so we can begin fresh and enjoy ourselves, oui?”
“Oui.” Henri nodded. “I appreciate the time you gave us to rest and recuperate, but I’m ready to play.”
“Excellent.” Rubbing his hands together, Victor sucked in a breath. “My first question is...can your brother access the funds he gave you? Can he claw back what he deposited, or is that cash locked in your account?”
Henri flicked me a look. “It’s in my name. I gave him access to view the balance through an email statement but nothing else. Unless he commits forgery, it’s mine.”
“Perfect. In that case, I’m not in any rush for you to transfer the balance to me. Let’s agree that the day of your initiation is the day you pay me, fair?”
“My initiation?”
“You’re on probation. I’m open to giving you a lifetime membership and surprisingly amenable to the thought of you being a long-term guest. I’m aware if I sent you away, Q would kill you, so...for now, you have my blessing to stay indefinitely.”
Henri tipped his chin in respect. “Thank you—”
“And...” Victor shot me a look. “Seeing as you’re rather attached to your jewel, I’ll agree to extend your exclusivity for the foreseeable future.
I’ve already talked to the other guests, and despite their misgivings, none of them have given me the funds that you will for the privilege, so...
you’re a unique case, and I’m open to allowing certain advantages. ”
Henri sat taller. “That’s—”
“Just one teeny tiny thing.” Victor held up his finger. “When the day comes that I want a taste. When I give the request to fuck her...you will not put up a fight. Not a single fucking word. Do you hear me?”
His words were like a bucket of icy slush.
My shoulders curled.
True horror soaked into my blood, dirty and damned.
I tried to be grateful that no one else would lay a finger on me.
But knowing I’d one day be Victor’s?
I wanted to be sick.
Violently, disgustingly sick.
Gritting his teeth, Henri studied me.
His hands flexed. His nostrils flared. He looked positively unhinged.
But finally...he nodded. “If that’s the price to keep her for my own, then...I accept.”
“Merveilleux.” (Marvelous.) Victor stood and swiped his palms on his shorts. “Now we’re both on the same page...is there anything you need? Clothing preferences? Medications? Things that you’ll miss from the outside world?”
Henri scratched his five o’clock shadow. “Eh...I think I’m good. Actually? You know what? A laptop would be appreciated.”