Chapter 13
Elowen
“Master is calling you for dinner.” A voice dripping with hatred pulls me from my book. I turn to find Nivi standing there.
I rise from the couch and walk toward her with a grin. “Hey, Nivi.”
“You’re beneath me, so call me madam,” she hisses.
I raise a brow. “Really? I don’t think so. You’re the one who came to call me for dinner, not the other way around.”
She grits her teeth. “Master hates you. If you think you can seduce him, let me tell you, it’s never going to happen.”
“I have no interest in seducing your master. But why are you so concerned?” I mock chuckle. “Hmm... jealous?”
She scoffs. “Who would get jealous of you? You’re just a slave whore.”
I take a step closer. “Mind your words around me. I can make you regret them.”
I have no idea how I’d do it, but my confidence scares the hell out of Nivi. So, channeling that same confidence, I lift my chin in pure arrogance.
“I’m a king’s daughter. Next time you call me a name, think twice. I have the power to ruin you before you even realize it.”
I walk past her and out of Bruno’s room, pressing my lips together to contain the chuckle bubbling inside me. What an award-winning performance. Watching Queen three times has finally come in handy.
In an excellent mood, I reach the dining room. As always, he’s sitting at the head of the table. Antonio isn’t here. I take the chair to his right.
“Is Antonio not joining us for dinner?”
He shakes his head, continuing to serve himself.
“I have a question for you. Actually, two,” I say, spooning some risotto onto my plate.
He looks at me.
“What’s your name?”
He stares down at his plate. “You can’t know.”
“Then what am I supposed to call you?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. “Don’t say ‘master.’ I’m not calling you that.”
He raises a brow. “You don’t have a choice.”
“You only deserve to be called what I already call you,” I mumble before putting a bite in my mouth.
“What?”
I chew slowly, drawing it out, while he watches me as if he has all the time in the world. After swallowing, I lean in slightly.
“Tyrant.”
I prepare my next bite, glancing down at my plate. “And monster.”
I put the food in my mouth, watching him nod.
He takes a small bite himself, his pale pink lips closing around the fork. I stop chewing, my focus zeroing in on his mouth. What would it feel like to kiss those lips?
I swallow the half-chewed bite and nearly choke. I cough, and his eyes snap to me, making me flush even deeper. I take a sip of water, averting my gaze.
The direction of my thoughts is not right.
He’s your captor, Wen.
A hot, handsome, beautiful captor.
Shut up. A grumpy, moody, arrogant captor.
“What’s the other question?” His voice stops the war in my head.
“Huh?”
“You said you had two questions.”
“Oh yeah, the other one is about my clothes. Why do I have to wear a maid’s uniform even though I’m not working as one?”
“You want to work as one?”
I press my lips into a tight pout, scrunching my chin. He smiles at my frustrated face. For the sake of that dimple, I decide to let this slide and move on to the important thing.
“I need bras.”
He nods.
“32B,” I add, a little flushed.
He looks at me, confused.
“My size,” I clarify.
He nods again. What kind of alien doesn’t know about bra sizes? I smile. But this is kind of cute.
“And I need sleepwear, too.” The bathrobes I’ve been using as nightwear really need to be washed.
“You don’t get to demand that much,” he replies, a trace of amusement coloring his tone.
I open my mouth to argue, then snap it shut and smirk. “Fine.”
I’ll just steal a few of his shirts to sleep in. From my experience, he doesn’t question my thievery.
Salvario
After dinner, I head to the testing lab to examine the new engine parts sent for my final approval. After inspecting and logging data on a few, I leave an hour later.
On my way upstairs, Nivi approaches and bows. “Master, I have something to tell you.”
“Go on.”
She looks at me with teary eyes. “The slave threatened me today.”
“How?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“She said she’s a powerful man’s daughter and will have me killed if I call her slave again.”
“Is that exactly what she said?”
She hesitates, then nods.
I nod once and walk toward the stairs.
Interesting. I thought she was a weak mouse who could only cry.
I walk toward Bruno’s room just in time to see her emerge from the bathroom. My steps falter when I take in what she’s wearing.
A blue shirt. Mine.
The sleeves are rolled up haphazardly. The hem falls below her thighs.
My breath stops completely for a few seconds; I drag in a slow, uneven breath. My eyes trail over her slender form. She’s drying her wet hair with a towel.
My gaze lingers on her chest. I can see the outline of her nipples through the fabric, and blood rushes to my dick.
I look up instantly—at her face—but my eyes don’t stay there. They slides lower, to her neck.
The top button is undone, water seeping beneath the fabric. I can trace its path in my mind. From her wet hair, down her neck, through the valley between her breasts, to her navel.
My body ignites. I’m getting aroused.
This isn’t possible. I have anaphrodisia. Sexual desire doesn’t exist for me.
She looks at me and grins. The heat inside me intensifies, burning hotter in my chest. She moves toward me. My eyes drop to her thighs. Her pale inner thighs peek through the gap below the last button of the shirt.
I clench my fists and jaw and force my gaze away from her—though my focus remains fixed in my periphery, where I can still see her. Whether I’m looking directly at her or not, she’s the only thing I can concentrate on.
“Umm... are you mad that I stole your shirt?” She asks timidly.
I turn my head to her face again.
“You’re stealing too much from me,” I say, my voice hard.
She catches a small corner of her lower lip between her teeth. My jaw tightens. I want nothing more than to capture those pink lips between my teeth. To bite them—to punish her for what she’s doing to me.
“Don’t get mad. I’ll return everything before leaving,” she offers with a smile.
“You won’t be able to.”
She sighs. “Then I’ll give you whatever you ask in compensation.”
“You won’t be able to do that either.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s not like the things I’ve stolen are worth billions.”
“More than that.”
“Fine. I’ll ask my dad to give you whatever you want in return.”
This pulls me back to the reason I’m here.
“You told Nivi you’d have her killed.”
Her round eyes widen.
“When?” she gasps.
She snaps out of her confusion, gritting her teeth, her small face twisting in anger, and the urge to pull her into me surges even stronger.
“I said I’d make her regret it, not that I’d have her killed. But now I think I’d like that more.”
“Why did you say that to her?”
She watches me, eyes narrowing. “I’m so glad you care about your staff so much.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“She called me a whore. But I’m sure you must have authorized everyone here to call me names, so it’s not surprising to you. But know this—I don’t have a heart of gold, and I won’t forgive anyone who disrespects me. Neither will my father or my brother.”
I frown. “I don’t approve of any such thing.”
I made it fucking clear to Nivi after what they did that first day that no one would say or do anything disrespectful to her. Even knowing what happens to those who disobey me, Nivi dared to do it. And then she fucking dared to lie to me.
That’s why she’d hesitated before nodding.
I turn without wasting a second and head downstairs to the servants’ quarters.
I press the intercom and order Nivi to come out.
After a minute, she rushes out.
Elowen
I follow him, but he’s too fast. The anger I just saw in his eyes wasn’t normal. I don’t want him to act on it. It’s easy to say I’d have Nivi killed, but that’s horrific in reality. And his anger promises serious damage.
I lose him after he turns a corner downstairs. I sprint into the corridor; it forks. I try the left path first, and when I don’t find him, I double back and take the right. There, just around the corner, he stands. Nivi stands in front of him, head bowed, the color completely gone from her face.
“What did you call her?” The roar in his voice echoes through the corridor.
“Slave,” she quavers.
His hand moves to his back. He pulls a gun from the holster and points it at her head.
“Say that again.”
Nivi glances up, then drops to her knees, trembling and crying. “I’m sorry, master.”
“What did you call her?” he repeats, his voice cold enough to freeze oceans.
“Wh—wh—whore.” She sobs harder.
He flicks off the safety. But before he can do anything else, I rush to his side and grab his forearm.
“No, don’t,” I gasp out.
His gaze shifts from Nivi to my hand. It lingers there for a beat, then rises to my face.
A storm rages in his gray eyes. His jaw is clenched tight, brows furrowed, gaze piercing.
“I’m sorry, master, please forgive me,” Nivi sobs.
Other maids gather behind us, but not a single one makes a sound.
I press down on his forearm, trying to lower the gun. He lets me. My hand slides from his wrist to his gloved fingers. I curl my own around them, wrapped over the gun.
“You don’t have to kill her,” I whisper into the small space between us.
He looks down at my hand over his. The tension in him eases—just a fraction. The anger settles into something like calm, but I can see the storm is still there, lurking beneath the surface.
I glance at Nivi. She looks like she might pass out any second. Now I feel terrible for her.
“Let her go.” I look back at him. “Please.”
He looks toward Nivi, his jaw tightening again. I press my hand over his. His eyes return to me.
“Punish her, then,” he says in that softened cold voice of his—still cold enough to send a shiver racing down my spine.
I turn quickly to Nivi. “Write a two-thousand-word essay on how you should have behaved, and read it every morning for a week.”
“This isn’t a school, Princess,” he sneers.
I look at him. “This punishment works everywhere.”
I tug his hand, pulling him away from the traumatized girl.
“This method has been used by the Chinese military to turn loyal American soldiers against their own country.”
I lead him back the way we came, rambling about psychological study, hoping to distract him from poor Nivi.
“They asked the soldiers to write down what they didn’t like about their nation, then made them repeat their own words back to themselves, over and over.
They couldn’t argue, because they’d written those things themselves.
And that way, they came to accept that they hated their country.
Once they believed they hated it, they could turn against it. ”
I’m breathless by the end of my speech—from talking, walking, and dragging this mountain of a man along with me. I release his hand once we reach the entrance to his wing.
I take a few deep breaths, then flash him a grin. “We should keep killing as the last option.”
He lifts his hand—the one still holding the gun. I freeze when he raises it to my face. He taps the barrel lightly against my cheek.
“Your heart won’t lead you anywhere good.”
Then he turns and walks away. I rub my cheek where the cold metal touched, my gaze fixed on his retreating back.