“I’m not backing out.” Her jaw tilted upward defiantly. “But I’m not going to be held hostage either.” Zel shed her tenacious resolve and something heated entered her eyes. “Besides, despite a learning curve of you throwing me to the ground, I enjoyed kissing you. I can think of worse things to do for two hundred thousand dollars.”

My heart thudded, stuttered, then hung confused in my chest. I didn’t know if I should be insulted or grateful. She’d forgiven me entirely for hurting her while putting me in my place once again.

Damn this f**king woman. Who the hell was she?

You just made the worst decision of your life.. There was no way a month would be long enough. She could turn out to be a conniving manipulator, and my c**k would still beg for her.

I snapped my fingers and strode toward the door on the other side of the room. “Come on.”

She didn’t ask any questions, only padded barefoot toward me, leaving her shoes on the floor. Her body came within a hair of brushing past mine, and I tensed every muscle I possessed, just in case.

Slinking past, she caught my eye. My balls tightened as I sucked in her scent of Lily of the valley. Every part of me throbbed—it was painful in a way, and so f**king sweet knowing I was minutes away from taking her.

I couldn’t stop the weird palpitations in my chest or the twisting of my gut.

While I was struck dumb, trying to keep a hold on my desire, Hazel headed down the corridor the wrong way.

“This way,” I ordered. “You’ll get used to all the doors.” The house had been built like the establishment I’d been trained in. For some f**ked-up reason, even though the place ruined my life, it was the only place I felt truly safe.

We headed down one long corridor with multiple rooms veering from it. No open spaces, apart from the fighting arena downstairs. Each room was private, self-contained, a cell for all intents and purposes.

We didn’t say a word as we walked over the thick black carpet toward the south end of the house.

The corridor led to my private wing. Only Oscar and the occasional cleaner were allowed up here. Pin-pad locks rested on every door, adding more to the prison-like appeal. Shit, Zel would have to learn the combinations to move anywhere in the house.

The repercussions of sharing my life with her finally decided to make themselves known. I hadn’t thought through how my sleeping patterns and habits would affect her. How my needs for certain types of release would freak her the f**k out.

Goddammit, this is a bad idea. Such a bad idea.

My room had a door I’d specially designed. Made out of composite metal, reinforced with rebar, and titanium hinges, it was practically bombproof. It offered some peace of mind that I’d hear them coming if they ever decided my vacation was over and came back for me.

Hazel stood beside me looking perfect, despite her crushed hair, smeared lipstick, and the shadows of bruising on her neck. Her perfection ridiculed me, highlighting once again that I’d never be good enough. That I’d always be who I was.

“Am I sleeping in your room or do I get my own space?” Zel’s melodic voice stayed hushed as if afraid of startling me.

I scowled. “You’ll sleep with me.” Stupid question. “I just made a deal with you to use as I see fit, and you think you’ll have your own space?” I didn’t admit that it would be best if she did. I made promises I couldn’t keep. I knew I’d end up hurting her. “This isn’t a vacation, dobycha, more like a sentence.”

Her forehead furrowed slightly. “Let’s just get something straight. I’m here willingly. I signed your stupid piece of paper; I agreed to let you take me however you want, within reason. You don’t have to keep dropping hints about sentences and making it sound like I’ll regret this.”

Her hand came up to land on my chest but I lurched backward. She shook her head. “Sorry. I forgot. I was going to say, if you f**k me like you kissed me, I won’t regret spending the month in your bed. What I will regret is killing you if you break your promise that I’m safe.”

I laughed coldly. “You think you can kill me?” The absurdity of such a notion. Not even a highly-trained swat team could dispatch me—I knew—they’d tried once or twice.

Zel leaned forward, bringing a cloud of floral air. “You’re forgetting that by sharing a bed with me, I’ll have full access to you while you sleep.” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper, “Sleeping with someone is a huge admittance of trust. If I wanted to hurt you I’m the only one close enough when you’re at your weakest to do so.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

How did she know I’d avoided sleeping with another because of that same fear?

I wanted to wring her neck for her implied threat all while contemplating how to avoid such an inevitability. Lowering my head, I growled, “Thank you for pointing out yet another hole in this arrangement. I’ll make sure to rectify it.”

Her eyes popped wide.

Focusing on the keypad lock, I stabbed the combination. “The code is 11453. You’ll need to remember that if I send you back here without me.”

She nodded. Her heart-shaped face and flawless complexion glowed beneath the corridor lights. Her lips moved silently, committing the code to memory.

Swinging the door wide, I let her enter first.

Automatic sensors switched on, spilling illumination from two bedside lamps and subtle lighting around artwork and sculptures. Just like my office, the entire space was black. Again, not a matter of choice, but necessity. Drilled into me by a past I couldn’t shake. It was ironic that I hated the dark, yet surrounded myself in it.

Zel gravitated toward a sculpture. Reaching out to touch it, I held my breath as her inquisitive fingertips caressed the brutalized metal. I’d finished it only a few days ago. It wasn’t anything special. Just a hunk of metal that I’d welded and twisted and deformed.

Along with the iron, bronze, and silver, it also held my blood and sweat.

I fed my designs with everything that I was—including the stuff flowing in my veins. In a way, it made me immortal—morphing me into pieces of metal—hopefully finding peace by hardening my heart just like the statues.

“You mentioned Oscar did the fox mural. Who did the sculptures?” Zel twisted to look at me, her eyes green diamonds in the gloom. “Whoever did these has a heart-breaking story to tell. They’re full of pain.” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “Did you do them?”