7
THE RUBY ONE
IVY
I wake up in bed and I'm alone. Naked and alone. I'm warm and thankfully it isn’t because Henry’s body is heating mine.
My arms stretch across the bed and I yawn. The bed is perfect, like everything else in this room. I hate the soft sheets, the reassuring weight of the duvet, and the calming light creeping through the shutters.
I sit up and my head feels woozy. The room spins and I lean against the headboard, steadying myself as the colors separate and the world focuses.
“Steady there.”
I stiffen.
Henry smirks as he leans against the doorway to the walk-in closet, showing me every goddamn muscle in his abdomen. Drops of water drip down his body and catch on his towel, which hides anything else I might be interested in.
His body’s perfect, and the asshole knows it. He isn’t tanned, but it doesn’t matter. His bright blue eyes still dazzle and his blond hair matches mine. He’s strong, muscular and lean. Fucking perfect—and a complete wanker.
“You're still wobbly, Ivy,” he says, running his hands through his wet hair. “Yesterday was a big day.”
Obviously. We got married. I almost passed out and only just made it through the fucking ceremony. Then he brought me up here, told me it was my fault for not eating, and then everything else happened.
It was confusing.
It was exciting.
It was fun, and I want more.
It was awful, and now I don't know what to do.
Henry stares at me and his bright blue eyes lance through my defenses, leaving me at his mercy. He's scrutinizing me in a way I don't like, as if I'm a fucking open book. Last night, for one awful moment, I wanted things to be easy. Now, I'm convinced they're going to be hard.
“You should eat,” he says, fetching a plate of food left on the side. “The strawberries are delicious.”
I stare and my stomach complains it wants feeding and there's no reason not to eat. I snatch a pastry out of spite, picking it apart and devouring it while Henry looks on in consternation. He glares, and I ignore the fuck out of him, especially when he sits down next to me.
“Ivy, about last night...”
His tone is relaxed but his body isn't. He's unsettled and out of his comfort zone, as I was yesterday—and he didn't give a single fuck when the shoe was on the other foot .
Henry's hand slides up my thigh. “I didn't want there to be any misunderstanding. You were perfect, it was perfect. I wanted to be sure.” He swallows and looks something, possibly pained. It's hard to tell. “That you wanted it. Wanted me.”
He's lying .
The asshole has the nerve to lie to me after everything that happened. I don't even care what the fuck went wrong. He's treating me like shit and I've never felt so used.
“Ivy, please,” he says, leaning closer. “I wanted it to be special. For you. I wanted you to have that.”
“Fine.” I huff.
Henry gets up and retreats to my closet, emerging dressed and as if nothing’s wrong. I don't understand why he's so cold, so indifferent. Minutes ago, he was desperate to be close and now he's an aloof asshole again.
“I've got some things to do, but I'll return later. Did you want anything?”
Peace. Quiet. Escape. From him.
I shake my head.
He nods and pauses as he opens the door. “Final chance?”
He waits. I refuse to answer.
He leaves. He locks the fucking door.
I stare at the lock with unbridled rage and my arms brace against the bed, stiffened by the anger sweeping through me. I'm trapped inside this gilded cage, even after everything I've been through, after everything Henry's done.
My fingers grip the sheet and I wrap it around me, covering myself as I walk to the bathroom. I don't know what I expect a bath to do and it doesn’t improve my mood. I ignore the perfume Henry bought me and put my hair into a ponytail, choosing the gym clothes to dress in .
And then I sit.
And wait.
And do nothing.
Because there is nothing to do.
Except wait for Henry to return.
I ignore my watch, staring at the walls and watching the shadows move as the light changes. I'm bored and I'm damn sure he wants me to be. He won’t give me anything because I didn’t ask for it, and he wants me dependent on him. For everything.
My eyes close and I daydream, remembering stories I read long ago and humming songs in my head. I won’t pace the room or give him the satisfaction of getting to me. He’s an asshole and the kind of control freak who’ll enjoy watching my every move, so I make none, slumping on the sofa.
Hours pass and nothing happens. The dullness is oppressive, but it’s designed to be. This is a battle of wills and Henry won’t win this one—and sooner or later, he’ll have to let me out of this room.
He doesn’t bother knocking and walks in, closing the door firmly behind him. Henry doesn’t lock it and he knows I’ve noticed. He walks over and sits on another chair, reclining and perfectly at ease.
“How was your morning?”
My jaw tenses even though I try my best to appear indifferent. “Fine. I needed rest after yesterday.”
Henry nods his head and mentions he’ll send Mia up to help remove my nails. I thank him politely and we stare at each other, wondering how the middle game is going to play out.
“I’ve cleared my schedule this afternoon.”
I wish he hadn’t .
“I thought we could talk.”
I don’t want to .
“We could straighten things out.”
I won’t give him the chance to straighten anything out .
“I could show you around. Make you feel more at home.”
I won’t let this place become home and there’s not a fucking chance he’s giving me a tour .
Definitely not happening. Even if that means sitting here all afternoon bored out of my goddamn mind. Henry knows my answer before I give it, and his expression tells me I’ve scored the point I intended.
“I’m still feeling tired. I’ll rest. Alone.”
“Your father assured me you were healthy,” he sighs, stretching his arm over the back of the chair. “I’ll call my doctor. A full physical never hurt anyone anyway, and I’d rather know you’re well.”
My eyes narrow as he scores a point. “Why?”
His eyes sparkle, amused by his cleverness. “Your father didn’t take good care of you. I pay much closer attention.”
I scoff and he smirks.
“Which reminds me,” he says, casually enough to put me on edge. “He didn’t tell me what engagement ring you’d like. It’s a bit late, but I dislike seeing you without my ring.” He pauses and removes two small boxes from his pocket, placing them between us. “Pick one.”
Neither.
My preference is for my goddamn finger to remain naked.
“I don’t mind.”
Our voices are as strained as each other’s as the pretense we’re both calm vanishes. He opens both boxes and both are stunning. One is an enormous diamond, the other a blood red ruby surrounded by diamonds. Both have matching wedding bands.
“It’s your choice, Ivy.”
The choice I want isn’t which ring I wear. It’s whether I wear a ring at all, but that’s been taken from me and I hate this. Hate him.
“I don’t care.”
“You should. You’re wearing it for the rest of your life,” Henry says.
We resign ourselves to prolonged silence. I hate him for it. He’s impossible. This is impossible. We’re polar opposites and this won’t work, even if I wanted it to—and I don’t.
“Pick whichever you prefer.” I wave my fingers between the two boxes dismissively.
Henry’s eyes burn with an anger hard to quantify. He’s enraged I’m refusing, livid I’m fighting this. I’m provoking his temper and pushing all his buttons. I’ve gotten under his skin and I intend to stay there.
“Ivy, pick a fucking ring.”
“Why?” My eyes narrow and his burn even hotter. “It’s not like I had a fucking choice about this.”
He really dislikes that. Henry’s fingers curl into fists and he’s straining, holding himself together as he fights against his nature. I know angry men. I know their tempers and their levers, and I’m pulling damn hard on Henry’s. I need to know what I’m facing and I’ve got to figure out how much control he has.
“Let’s get a few things straight,” he says, pouring venom into his tone. “You had a choice. You could have refused. You didn’t. You even made your own agreement with me. You’ve been badly behaved and foul-mannered since you arrived, and I won’t tolerate this behavior. To me, or my staff. It ends now.”
“Fuck. Off.”
His eyebrow arches, and it’s sharp enough to slice into my resilience. “You will obey me, Ivy. It would be better if you did it the easy way. If not, I’ll be forced to teach you the hard way. I’ve been kind so far, and you’re running out of room, darling.”
I sneer and he growls. It’s unlike any sound I’ve ever heard, and it stops me dead. My body reacts, stunned and flooded with fear, screaming I should give him whatever he wants.
“From now on, you get only what I give you. If you want something, ask, and I will decide if you have it. We’ll move those boundaries when you’ve earned them, but you need to understand your position. You’re dependent on me. For everything.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You’re fighting instead of accepting your situation. We will continue like this until you accept me.”
He’ll have a fucking long wait before that happens. I’m not going to let him dictate every decision in my life. I refuse to give him that control. I never agreed to this, and this is beyond unacceptable. I let him feed me last night and now he thinks he can have anything he wants—and he’s got another thing coming to him. Not a fucking chance.
“Don’t choose the hard way. You won’t like it.”
Henry’s tone is condescending and he’s so damn confident it’s arrogant. He has the nerve to tap his fingers on the chair’s back, completely at ease, and the slightest curl of his mouth suggests he’s enjoying my distress.
“Shall we talk about this over lunch?”
I send him a look that says he can fuck right off, and my stomach grumbles. His subtle smile turns into a full-blown smirk, and he drums his fingers harder.
“Ask me nicely, Ivy, and I’ll feed you.”
“Fuck. Off.”
“Language.” He leans forward. “I don’t like foul-mouthed pets. Unless it’s my come making their mouths unclean.”
A shudder moves through me, hitting my core and making my clit throb. It’s disgusting, but I’m aroused and I’ve never felt like this. I loathe the man sitting in front of me, but he’s turned me on, despite my disgust and confusion.
My head’s spinning and I’m trying to process everything he’s said and my reaction to it. Henry’s watching as my mind spins, trying to convince itself it didn’t hear what it’s sure it just did.
“Pet?”
His expression doesn’t change, but his muscles tense, his weight shifts and his fingers dig into the armchair. Henry’s excited and I’m guessing by more than my distress.
“You’ll learn to accept your role, Ivy. I’ll provide for your every need and, in return, you’ll provide for mine.”
I shake my head. “No fucking way.”
“Language, pet.”
My heart races, and my stomach knots, churning at the thought of being treated this way.
“We don’t like being called pet, do we?” he says. “We will work on that.”
We will when hell freezes over .
“Is there a name you prefer, Ivy?”
I shake my head.
Like a goddamn idiot.
I’m participating in this. Engaging with him. It’s tantamount to an acceptance of some of this and Henry smiles, taking the small victory and making it damn clear he’s aware of what I’ve given away.
“Kitten is too placid. We’ll find something that appeals to us both. But it won’t change our dynamic, Ivy.” There’s no ambiguity. No room for doubt. None of this morning’s softness and I almost miss it. “I didn’t fuck you last night because you weren’t ready. I won’t until you are. Until you’re begging for my cock.”
I snort and he’s amused. It’s dangerous.
“You doubt me. You shouldn’t. Test your Master and you’ll discover how far I’m prepared to go. I don’t want to, but I will. Don’t force my hand.”
My thoughts spiral again as I force myself to sit impassively, trying not to give anything away.
“Let me be clear, Ivy. You’re my pet and I’m your Master. Your every need is dependent on me. Your happiness, your pleasure, and your pain. Your living arrangements, your attire, and your food.” He moves towards the door and I’m relieved he’s leaving. “I will never ask for more than you can give me. Never risk your safety. I will protect you, care for you and cherish you.”
I catch a breath as panic threatens to break through my cool facade. Henry’s seen a crack in my calm exterior, but he doesn’t need to know the extent of his effect on me.
“Did you want food, pet?”
“No.”
He knows I’m hungry and he’s making a point. So am I. This is how we’ll fight this out. It’s the first battle in what is going to be a long war. He’s planning to wear me down, but he’s in for one hell of a shock.
“I’ll return later. You’ll be wearing one of those sets. Our agreement about your sister depends on it.”
Anger flashes over my face and he smiles. Calmly. Fucking calmly.
“I’m arranging a trust fund for her. It secures her independence and I’m prepared to let her live here if that would please you. I think you understand my terms.”
“I hate you.”
“No, pet, you don’t.”
I grind my teeth and want to hurt him. I want to do something, anything, to hurt him in the way he’s hurting me. Lashing out isn’t pretty and it’s often counterproductive, but it’s the one weapon he’s leaving me with and it’ll soothe my soul a little. And the consequences are a price I’m prepared to pay.
“The ruby one.”
Henry stares at me and it’s impossible to unpick his emotions. He’s on the verge of an implosion and my casual indifference catches him off guard, wounding him. I’ve stuck the knife in and twisted it by extending my left hand, resigned and bored.
He marches across the room, snatches the box from the table and shoves the rings on my finger. It isn’t romantic. It isn’t kind. It’s a moment that’s the opposite of what I’d wanted it to be, and of what he wanted too. It’s hurtful. Spiteful. Petty and bitter.
It’s apt.
He leaves before I start crying and the door locks. A pang of guilt rises in me as I start shaking, struggling to hold myself together. My head screams I’m doing the right thing, but my heart says I’m not and it wants me to run after him. It’s bizarre, it’s confusing and I don’t like it.
It’s enough to break me and I shatter, bursting into tears. I don’t care about anything anymore, it’s too much, too hard. My emotions are more than I can bear and I wail, lost and consumed and unsure how the hell I’m going to survive.