“I desire very little, but the things I do consume me.”
—Beau Taplin
I take my time shaving, stroke after slow stroke, knowing Emmy waits for me just outside the door.
My jaw ticks beneath the razor as last night replays in my head. Over and over, I watch her mouth fall open as I fuck her, hear my name on her tongue when she comes. Feel the burning slice in my back as she loses herself, then her soft, stained fingers sliding down my face.
Shit.
Tossing the razor beside the sink, I lean forward and splash cold water on my face. My wound aches at the strain, still raw with the stitches Aubrey gave me several hours ago. I keep my eyes shut for a minute. Everything inside me starves for Emmy, urging me to peel back whatever other dark secrets she’s hiding behind those innocent eyes.
In all the years prior to abstaining, I’d never had a woman able to pull me out of it—out of the blinding depths that take over those final moments I relinquish my control. Yet Emmy did. Then she went and outdid me. Seeing her soul stripped of pretense as she held my knife, as my blood decorated her skin—it was fucking spellbinding.
I don’t know how, or when, she got under my skin, but she’s liquid in my veins. I feel her with every beat of my pulse. There is no avoiding her. For better or for worse, she’s shackled to me now.
I step into the bedroom and pace to my closet, grabbing a black button-down and slipping it on. Turning as I work the buttons, I spot Emmy leaning against my dresser. She’s raking me over, licking her lower lip like she wants to do that climbing thing she does.
My cock is weak. He immediately stands at attention.
I grit my teeth as the sutures below my shoulder graze my shirt. The sting makes me think of Emmy’s euphoric expression when she stabbed me, which makes me want to fuck her again, which is irritating because I have shit to do and can’t spend all day between her legs.
Fuck. That image doesn’t help.
A quiet growl rumbles through me. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll need new stitches before my meeting.”
She bites her lip but drops her gaze. Intrigue and guilt. Interesting pair. She thinks she did something wrong last night. And, yet, she liked it.
She works so hard to hide herself. Makes me curious who made her think she had to in the first place.
Once I’m fully dressed, I walk to the dresser and grab my phone, opening a text from Felix. “Let’s go,” I mutter without looking up.
“But I’m not presentable. I have to stop by the spa.”
I arch a brow, then bring my gaze to hers. “You’re not what?”
She shifts her feet, gesturing from her face to her heels. “Presentable. For you.” When I say nothing, she adds, “Hair, makeup, nails . . .”
I look her up and down. She’s in her uniform—tight black dress and heels. Little fucked up since that’s the same thing Katerina wore in the studio, but everyone has issues, and we stopped trying to make sense of ours a long-ass time ago. Her hair is down, black and long. Her lips are soft and pouty. Light freckles I hadn’t noticed before dust her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose. Her blue eyes are bright and centered on me, right where they should be. She looks fucking perfect to me.
I rub my palm down my jaw, my eyes flicking back to those lips. I had my first taste last night, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to shove her mouth open with my tongue. I wanted to take that part of her too.
But I don’t kiss. It’s one line I won’t cross, not even with her. Kissing is intimate, and I don’t do intimate.
Tearing my gaze from her mouth, I turn and head for the door. “You’re fine,” I mutter, staring straight ahead as we exit. “No more visits to the spa, understand?”
There’s a pause, my words echoing in the hall as she trails behind me.
“I understand,” she says softly.
Something about her tone makes my shoulders stiffen. It’s warm and affectionate, two things that don’t belong anywhere near me. I’m made of ice, a place where warm things go to die.
Clenching my fist, I stop just outside Raife’s office door. When I finally look at her, I know my expression is as cold as my soul would be if I had one. But the second I find her wide eyes already locked on me, her chin tilted and her lower lip between her teeth, unspoken words I didn’t anticipate burn painfully inside my mind.
Instead what comes out is, “You’re here because I’m your master.” I can’t function without you. “Your duty is to serve me.” I’m chained to every move you make. “That’s all this fucking is.” You’re all there fucking is.
Her gaze drifts to my clenched fist, and when she drags it back up to meet mine, she gives a slow nod. “Yes, Master.”
Heat coils around me, pulling my muscles taut as her voice lingers in my ears. Working my jaw, I push the door open. “You and following damn instructions.”
Her lips quirk before she passes me and makes her way toward my usual chair, diagonal from Raife’s empty desk. Still standing in the doorway, my eyes flick from Griff to Felix. “Where is he?”
Felix brings his glass of whiskey to his lips. “In the front house. We got another offer for a buyout. He’s shutting it down.”
Griff grunts as his gaze trails Emmy, pausing on every curve, and my eyes narrow. “You don’t get to look at her,” I grumble, tracing my fingers over the knife inside my pocket. I feel Emmy watching me, but my focus is on Griff.
He shifts his attention to me and scowls. “Since when do you make my decisions?”
“Since you broke the rules and lost the right to make your own.”
He snarls but keeps quiet.
Just as I move toward Emmy, the door opens behind us. Raife strolls inside and heads to his desk, slowing halfway when he notices Emmy leaning against my chair. I grit my jaw. In light of professionalism, I’d planned on waiting until after the meeting to finish what he started yesterday. But one wrong move and that flimsy plan goes to shit.
Typical Raife, he opens his mouth before he even circles his desk. “Well, isn’t this sweet.” He smirks as he glances between us, and I instinctively move closer to her. “I gotta say, I’m impressed you’re still keeping it together, brother. Must be a pussy made of magic.” He winks at her, then runs the back of his fingers down the fresh cut I left on his cheek. “Gonna have to test it for mysel—”
I’m behind him before he finishes his sentence. I pull his hands behind his back and use my leg to shove him against the desk, keeping him rooted to the spot. After whipping my knife open, I hold it with my free hand less than an inch from the vein in his neck.
Griff stands, braced to fight. Felix stays in his seat and downs the rest of his whiskey.
Raife’s deep chuckle makes the knife brush skin. “Finally,” he groans. “Yes, old friend. Throw away the key and come out to play.”
A dry smile tips my lips. I tighten my grip on him. “Not today, brother. This revenge isn’t mine.”
The room falls silent, and Felix shifts in his chair as he watches me transfer my focus to Emmy. Confusion etches into her forehead, her eyes locked on mine in silent question.
Moving the knife from Raife’s neck, I extend it to her. “A cut for a cut.”
Raife wasn’t the one who tore into her stomach, but he may as well have been. And with all the shit he’s pulled on her since her arrival, I know she’s burning to make him pay.
A swallow passes through her throat as she stares between the knife and Raife. I can almost feel the anger, burning like fire, under his skin.
His eyes turn to slits. He digs his shoulder into me, but I hold him in place. “You’re gonna fucking regret this, Adam,” he seethes. “No fucking way would I let Katerina cut into you.”
I shove him against the desk, hard enough to pull a groan from him. “She is not Katerina,” I bite out. “She had nothing to do with any of that shit.”
He barks out a laugh and shakes his head, his chest heaving. “You so sure about that?”
My gaze narrows when I glance at Felix, but he just shrugs. Griff’s lip curls as he watches Emmy. When I look at her, her eyes are wide and she’s shaking her head. “I have no idea who Katerina is, Adam. I swear.”
Uncertainty grips my veins, despite the fact I know that’s Raife’s intention. Emmy isn’t lying. Anyone could see that just from her expression. Still, the resemblance is too striking to keep any of us from questioning it. Not to mention her age. She would have been exactly Sofia’s age at the time we were there.
I watched Sofia die with Katerina. I’ve seen Emmy’s file, her family, her home.
Gritting my teeth, I slide the knife across the desk. Emmy’s gaze drops, and a shaky exhale pours from her mouth. She takes a slow step forward.
Raife’s fucked with her enough.