19. Liv
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LIV
I t’s not my first time in the building, but when I took the lift directly to the seventh floor that fateful summer day, I didn’t realize this was one house .
It has a receptionist, footmen, a waiting room. I thought we might even be in a hotel.
No, Callum doesn’t have a house. He has a Hall . Fern Hall, to be exact, an historical monument built in the eighteenth century for one of our monarch’s mistresses. The town manor takes up half a block, just a few streets down from the royal palace, with a view of the park.
“Is this…your parent’s place?” I look around, half expectingto see his mom and dad around the corner.
He shakes his head. “No, I bought it from the Harwicks when I got access to my trust fund at eighteen.”
I blink. “You bought this. At eighteen.”
I knew he came from another world. I didn’t realize it was an entirely different galaxy.
He smirks. “I got lucky. The Harwicks needed an infusion of cash, and not many wanted to deal with renovating a place with so many features that couldn’t be touched: the ceilings, the stained glass, some of the walls.”
Somehow, though, despite the complex ornamental ceilings, columns, and yes, those stained glass windows on the first floor, this place did feel modern. Dark wood, simple decor, in deep reds.
“After renovating, I sold the west wing. Less, his brother Nic, Hux, Hawk, Caden, and Sebastian live next door. They each own a floor. The sale recouped what I spent on the property and all improvements, with a fair bit of change to spare.”
“So you meant to say you bought the entire block, not just half.”
This is unbelievable . “And those seven floors are all yours?”
“Indeed. I mostly use the penthouse, on the upper floor.”
“What do you do with all the space?” I wonder.
“Orgies, mostly.” He shrugs, as casual as if he was talking about the weather. “About once a month or so, I get all the eighteen- to thirty-year-old royals together in one place—with their partners, their friends, their dolls, their toys. Not many people have the space for a gathering like that in town—and why travel to a country estate when I can host?”
I’m completely out of words.
“You’ll love it, won’t you, my precious doll? You adore being the center of attention.”
I flush, looking away. “I really don’t understand you, sometimes. Like, you say I’m yours and all that, and at the same time, you seem to like nothing more than letting other people touch me.”
He snorts, leading us to the lift again. “For me to share something, it has to be mine in the first place. Be honest, love. How does it make you feel when you’re being watched? When Hawk, Sebastian, and I shared you?”
My insides clench as my core tingles. I don’t say anything, but Callum still smirks smugly. “That’s what I thought.”
The lift opens up to the floor I already know.
“There are people who are completely possessive with their affections. I’m not one of them. I love showing off what’s mine. I want the entire universe to know just how beautiful and precious it is, and be quite certain that it belongs to me,” he explains as we walk into the familiar lounge, with that pole still set up near the window.
I wonder if people can see it from outside.
Maybe.
Probably.
Considering what he just said, I’m fairly certain he set it up so they would see. Maybe not in detail, at that height, but still.
“I realize that’s not how the majority of the population feels. But here’s the thing, love. You like to be shared, too. You know that,” he adds somewhat gently. “And that’s one of the many reasons I’m keeping you.”
“Keeping me,” I repeat with an eye roll.
“And you’re staying right here until you can assure me you understand that. Make yourself comfortable.”
I don’t believe my comfort is Callum’s primary concern. First, he bends me down in the billiard room, then he gets me to dance on the pole, naked, before fucking me on the floor next to it. We break for lunch, only for him to request a lap dance in the library.
“I’ve never actually done one of those.”
“Another first I’m getting, huh?” He seems ridiculously smug about that.
I think we fuck in every single one of his many rooms—on the upper floor, anyway. I’m glad he doesn’t set out to explore the entire hall.
The next day, I actually can’t get out of bed, even if he’d let me—even if I’d tried. My muscles are on fire.
He orders a massage for us both, and the Swedish man with hands of iron who looks like an extra in a Viking show has me moaning on the table, first because he works his thumb right into all of my aches and knots, and then, because his sleek fingers are deep in my ass and pussy, almost as skilled as Callum. One glance towards his table, set up next to mine, and I see his dark-haired masseur with one hand around his balls and the other, jerking his shaft.
Okay, then.
“I didn’t know you were bisexual,” I say, as I’m floating in a bubble bath after we’re both boneless and deeply satisfied.
I’m not going to lie: watching some guy jerk, then suck him was disturbingly hot.
“I’ll fuck any hole, so make that pan. Sex doesn’t necessarily mean much to me, past the release.” Gray eyes bore into mine. “Unless it does.”
It’s dinner time by the time I manage to pinpoint my issue with the whole thing.
He’s right, I don’t believe or trust that he’s actually into me, and there’s one simple reason: he approached me as a substitute.
I ponder on how to broach the subject for a while, before he says, “Spell it out.”
“What?”
“Whatever has you frowning and sighing and fidgeting. Let it out. There’s literally nothing you could saw that would shock me, or piss me off, or turn me away.”
When did I become so transparent?
“Do you have a thing for my sister too?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Hell no. She’s a baby .”
There’s no mistaking his grimace.
“And I’m not?” I reply with a snort.
I know there are a couple of years between Grace and I, but we really do look alike.
Callum sighs. “I’ve known her for four years. I saw her grow up. And she’s still seventeen. I haven’t seen you with braces.” After a beat, he continues. “But beyond the obvious, you’re different. She’s more…controlled. I prefer to be the one in control, in case that wasn’t clear.”
That makes sense, but I still don’t really understand how someone could be into me and not her. Especially someone who approached me only because of our resemblance.
“Besides, she can’t move like you do,” he adds teasingly. “I doubt she’s as flexible either.”
“But how could you be into me if she repulses you?”
“You’re right. Physically, you’re very similar, and when I first saw you, I only really saw a blonde Grace,” he admits. “That was before we ever met, at the club. Then I ordered a report on you, to get a sense of what I could use to convince you to fuck Hawk. I learned many things. Such as the porn you watched.”
Oh god.
I might not have had sex, but I used to watch sex videos fairly frequently, each filthier than the last.
Group things.
Gangbangs.
Blowbangs.
I’ve always liked that sort of vibe…and he knew from the start.
“You’re such a fucking stalker.”
He’s completely unapologetic. “Yeah, it hits differently, watching you dance in the club, while knowing what gets you off. I imagined a dozen cocks coming all over you like they do in your favorite videos.” Callum grins across the table. “I was a goner from there on. The rest was just confirming what I suspected about our chemistry.” He reaches out, fingers brushing one wayward strand of hair back. “Doesn’t hurt that you’re adorable.”
“Did you…” I clear my throat. “Did you arrange for a foursome because that’s what I like to watch?”
“Of course.”
I lick my lip. “And the deep throat?”
“Yeah. I figured I’d leave the double penetration until you have a bit of anal training though.”
Holy fucking shit.
“It shocked the hell out of me when you told me you were a virgin,” Callum announced. “I mean, the PI file did kind of confirm that: I couldn’t see proof of any dating, or any private shows at the club…but that’s a hell of kinky list of interests for someone who hadn’t even had sex.”
He’s not really asking me, but I find that I want to share.
“When I was little my mother would receive…clients in her flat.” I wince. “She’d tell me to go in the closet, but sometimes I’d watch under the door. I used to hear them. I guess that stayed with me.”
After a long moment, Callum reaches for my hand, squeezing it. “I’m sorry you lived through that.”
“You are?” I don’t know why that surprises me.
He nods deeply. “Children are meant to keep their innocence. You should have turned into a pervert at a pool party orgy at sixteen like the rest of us.”
“ Sixteen ?”
“Oh, yeah. Estelle had this tiny string bikini on and damn Caden pulled the little bow.” He chuckles. “Next thing I know, my cousin’s lifting her pussy up to his face and half the other girls want to know what makes her scream so hard so they’re sitting on our mouths.”
“Seriously?” The sheer decadence of the scene he describes is baffling.
“I don’t even know who jumped my cock—I was asphyxiating under a fat pair of buttocks. Good times. I’d had sex before, but that party determined how I fuck. How most of us fuck really.”
My introduction to that sort of thing was nasty , but his somehow feels worse; not the kind of things sixteen-year-olds should naturally lean towards.
Again, it shows a stark difference between my world and his. I never went to a pool party, but if I had, it would have ended with swimming.
“We’re a mess,” I conclude.
“Yep. Would you pass the bread?”
He doesn’t fucking care one tiny bit.
And when I search my feelings, I find that I don’t either.
We are seriously fucked up, but we wouldn’t work if we weren’t.
Shit. I think his kidnapping idea is working. Maybe it’s Stockholm syndrome, because I think I finally get it.
“Okay,” I say, not actually reaching for the bread. “You like me. And I think, in your weird, seriously need a shrink kind of way, you’re serious about it.”
He smirks. “That was faster than I thought. Now tell me how you feel about that.”
I flush. “I like it.”
I’m fairly certain any other answer would result in another day or two in his golden prison, but that’s not why I admit it.
“I like you .”
“Wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” Callum’s smile broadens, showing me all his teeth. “But I really would like the breadbasket, please.”