She's remained perfectly still, a statue of submission. But there's something different now that I know she's been obsessing over me—the real me—for years.
That she's been drawing me, dreaming of me, thanking me for destroying her life because it revealed her true nature.
"Stand," I tell her.
She rises gracefully, the bells chiming.
"We're going out," I inform her. "But first, you need to understand something."
I crowd her against the wall, hand around her throat, feeling her pulse race under my fingers.
"Whatever you think you need, whatever you think you are…you're mine now. The past doesn't matter. Your life before doesn't matter. Only this. Only us. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Say it."
"I'm yours. Only yours. Nothing else matters."
If only she knew how much the past matters, how intrinsically we're connected by blood and violence.
Too late now.
The meeting is with Arkady Morozov, who runs the Eastern European trade routes through the city.
He thinks he can negotiate better terms now that I'm "distracted" by a new toy.
He's about to learn otherwise.
I conduct business from my office at the legitimate front—an upscale restaurant that serves as cover for the real operations below.
It's closed on Sundays, giving us privacy.
Selene kneels beside my chair on a plush cushion, naked except for the jewelry, my hand casually tangled in her hair.
Arkady Morozov enters with two bodyguards and stops short when he sees her.
"Cassius," he says carefully, eyes trying not to drift to the naked girl at my feet. "This is... unexpected."
"Is it? I thought you knew everything about my operations. Isn't that what you've been telling people? That you know my weaknesses?"
He shifts uncomfortably. "I merely suggested that perhaps you've been less focused lately."
I tighten my grip in Selene's hair, and she gasps softly. "Do I seem unfocused to you?"
"No, but?—"
"Sit."
He sits across from my desk, trying to maintain eye contact with me and failing.
His gaze keeps drifting to Selene, to the way she leans into my touch, to the marks covering her skin, to the jewelry marking her as property.
"The terms of our agreement," I begin, releasing Selene's hair to pick up the contract. "You want to renegotiate."
"The thirty percent you take is excessive?—"
"Forty."
