There is something bothering me, a niggling sensation in the back of my mind that just won’t go away. I know it has to do with Fiore. It must.

If I’m honest with myself, which I normally am, I spend entirely too much time and energy focused on her when I’m here. It’s kind of sickening, how much easier it is to obsess over her budding sexuality than it is to worry about whatever problems I have back in New Orleans.

There is a whole empire waiting for me there, with all the challenges and stress of any growing republic. Here, though?

Here, there is only her. It’s much simpler to wonder if I can make her actually enjoy the blend of pleasure mixed with pain that I savor. Or maybe, being as inexperienced as she seems to be, she will just assume that everything I do is normal. That what I like is normal.

Shit, maybe I can permanently hardwire her to need pain in order to come. That would give me the ultimate rush, knowing that I had done something so everlasting. I could create the perfect little sex toy, ready for and excited to be dominated by me.

Now that is an interesting thought.

It’s not as if she ever really goes away, either. I’ve got her trapped here indefinitely, just waiting on me. Even now, I feel her presence in the hallway across from my bedroom. As I stand there, unlocking the door to my personal office, I know without a doubt that I have an audience.

“Fiore!” I call, twisting the doorknob. “I know you’re there. You might as well come out.”

Her blonde head peeks out from the shining blue-papered wall, where the hallway turns. I see her curious blue eyes, see the swirl of emotions set there.

Cautious, guarded, nosy. Starved for input from the outside world.

Opening the door with a sweeping gesture, I invite her to see what she so clearly wants to see. My office, where I conduct most of my business when I’m here.

A huge cedar desk in front of a huge wall of books. A pair of plain straight backed chairs face the desk. In the corner, a comfortable leather chair looks out over the mansion’s courtyard.

I glance at Fiore, who is slowly making her way down the corridor. I’ve taken away her shoes and her choice of clothes. I’ve had her hair dyed to remove the flashy bright blonde. I’ve done dirty things to her, marked her with lashes of my cum.

And yet, she seems above it. Her posture is still frail and nervous, like she’s expecting a violent outburst at any moment…

But there is something in the way that she conducts herself. An elegance to the way she carries her head so high. Something I didn’t see clearly before.

“Come on, then,” I say, jerking my head toward the open door. “You know you want to look.”

Heading inside my office, I make my way around to my desk, sitting in my comfortable black rolling chair. Fiore appears in the doorway, hesitating. I can feel her eyes on my book collection on the wall behind me.

Opening my laptop on my desk, I sift through a handful of emails while she decides if she’s going to enter the room or not. When she does, tiptoeing inside and pausing by one of the stiff-backed wooden chairs, she looks like a deer ready to take flight.

I favor her with a glance. “What is it that you want, Fiore?”

She blushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes are glued on the books behind my head. I have to try not to take it personally that she doesn’t actually want to be in the room with me, it’s the books that she lusts after.

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at them, chewing on her lips nervously.

“Sit down,” I say, pointing to the chair.

She looks at me, her blue eyes locking on my face, and I can almost hear her pulse pick up. She slides her body around to the front of the chair, almost seeming unwilling to take the risk of sitting here with me.

It’s sort of satisfying to know that the system I’ve been training her with — the stripping away of her identity, then rebranding her by alternately tormenting her and playing nice — is working.

She swallows, and her eyes are drawn back to the books again. Rocking back in my chair, I contemplate her. It would be nothing for me to give her a book… but I want something in return.

What should I demand, though?

The fact that I haven’t yet ground her old life out of her mind weighs on me. As long as she still thinks that there is a chance that someone might save her, life won’t be completely restful for me. Better that she gives up on it entirely.

“You want a book to read?” I say, gesturing behind me.

Her eyes widen for a second, then she swallows again and nods. “Yes.”

I cock my head, considering her. “You weren’t randomly chosen to be my toy. There is a reason, which has everything to do with the men who were part of your family. You know that, right?”

A puzzled look appears on her face, her brow puckering just a tiny bit. “I know that… I mean I assume that you are a rival of my father’s.”

That is more right than she knows. I don’t think that she knows that her father is dead, though. It takes me a few seconds to make sure that my next words are well-considered.

“Correct. What I don’t think you understand is how vile and corrupt your family was. I think they sheltered you from a lot.” I stop, a thought occurring to me. “Obviously not too much though, since they fucking sold you.”

She blanches and reels back like she’s been hit, biting her lip. She doesn’t say anything, but her expression grows more intense.

“I just want to make sure that you fully understand something, Fiore. I want you to realize that you’re dead to them. They are not coming to save you. And you shouldn’t want them to, honestly. For all my flaws, I think I have saved you from them.”

A scowl immediately overtakes her face. When she speaks, her tone is terse, as if she’s spitting. “You’re no savior.”

My brows rise. “No? You think not?”

“I know better,” she says, her jaw jutting out stubbornly.

“I think you’re wrong. Not only that, but I have a video that you should see. It’s time that the blinders come off. It’s time to see your family for who they really are.”

A perplexed look crosses her face. “You have a video of them?”

“I do. And I’ll show it to you.”

She looks suspicious. “What if I don’t want to see it?”

I roll backward, glancing at the wall of books. “I’ll trade you. One book for one minute of viewing. That’s more than fair, I think.”

Her lip curls a bit in defiance. “Like you would know what is and is not fair.”

“Do you not want the book, then?” I say, pretending to rise from my chair.

“I didn’t say that,” she says quickly.

“Because it’s a good deal.”

She presses her lips together, repressing whatever she wants to say. A soft smile plays on my lips. She’s learning.

“It’s a generous offer. Go ahead and pick any book you like.” I gesture to the wall behind me. “Or you can go back to memorizing the ceiling tiles or whatever it is that you do when I’m not here.”

That earns me a glare, but she doesn’t argue. She just stands up, watching me carefully, and comes around to my side of the desk. I spend the next couple of minutes looking at her body. Her long legs, her firm breasts, that fucking ass…

Her ass is amazing. Flawless. Without reproach. As she creeps by my chair, trying to pick the best book possible, I casually reach out and grab a handful of her sweet ass.

“Hey!” she squeaks, slapping at me hand.

“It’s mine. I’ll touch it if I want to,” I shrug, moving my hand back.

She darts away, evading my touch. “How about The Count of Monte Cristo?”

Wheeling toward my bookshelf, I see a copy of the novel there. “If that is your choice, then certainly.”

Fiore makes strong eye contact with me, like that will stop me from groping her while she reaches for the book.

“Uh uh,” I tell her, reaching out and grabbing her by the hips. She writhes away from my touch, a protest already on her lips. “We agreed. You have to watch it first.”

Giving me the evil eye, she scurries around the desk, hovering on the other side. “Fine.”

I smirk at her. She thinks that she is playing a game, but I’m the king. I make the rules. I could have her every day and every night if I wanted to take her by force. Bent over this damn desk, if that was what made me hard.

Turning to my laptop, I click a few buttons. A black video viewing screen pops up, and I turn the whole computer away from me. I’ve already seen this video of Sal Carolla and his sons raping and killing Anna enough times.

The hour has come for Fiore to understand just how deviant and perverted her own family was. Then, when I’ve let that sink in for a while, I’ll let her know that I killed those fuckers before I ever even bought her.

It’s a slow game that I’m playing, but ever so worthwhile.

I mute the volume and press play, watching Fiore’s face. The video cuts right to Sal balls deep inside Anna, with Anna screaming and pleading for mercy. Fiore’s eyes widen, and she glances up at me. Perhaps waiting for confirmation that this is all a joke.

But it isn’t a joke. This video was dropped off at my New Orleans residence after Anna’s head, to rub salt in my wounds. Actually, you could say that this video was what made me decide to kill them all.

All but my Fiore. Her, I kept alive, just waiting for moments like this.

Moments where I swear, I can see her heart actually shredding into a million pieces. Her complexion takes on faintly green cast, and she staggers away from the computer.

She looks at me, her blue eyes filled with horror and disgust. She gasps out a single word. “Why?”

But before I can respond, she races out of the room, trying to get as far away as possible from what she’s just seen. The images are inside her mind now, though. Just like they’re in my head.

Burned permanently.

I sit back, putting my hands behind my head and looking out the window.

Now she knows, at least.

I’m not the only man in her life that is capable of evil.