“Toughen up,” I told myself, the hard look in my eyes in direct contrast with the uncontrollable shake in my body. “You will not let this destroy you.”
I stared until my body slowly stopped trembling. The girl staring back at me was a million miles away from the smart ass girl who thought she knew more about life than she did. She was also a different person than the girl who gabbed with her bestie about stupid shit that really didn’t mean anything in the real world.
Lora was going onto college without a blemish on her soul. I envied her soft childhood, her great parents and overall, wonderful life.
It wasn’t about all the birthday cakes, Christmas presents and school lunches my mom conveniently forgot in her single-minded pursuit of a man to help pay the bills — it was about the misery of abject poverty that twisted people into monsters or ground them into dust.
Poverty was a pervasive black mold that invaded and destroyed everything it touched.
Lora would never have to sell herself to be free of the void sucking at her feet, threatening to drag her down into the pits of hell like so many unfortunate people just like me.
She had her family to turn to if she ever fell. I only had myself.
In this moment, for one shame-filled heartbeat, I hated Lora for having everything I’d ever wanted in this life.
I hated that I was the one shivering in a stranger’s bathroom, clutching a thin silk to my skin, awaiting my next act of degradation for someone else’s entertainment.
It wasn’t her fault but was it my fault that fate had put me in Carla’s womb instead of that of a decent person?
Fuck, it was an endless pity party if you started down that road, which normally I avoided.
But, forgive me this moment of weepy sadness for myself because, fuck man, this was some terrible shit to navigate for a girl who just wanted a chance to get out from beneath the collapsing shitpile that was her life.
I drew a halting breath, tensing as I heard the lock engaged on the bedroom door. He was back.
I clenched my palms into a tight fist, willing myself to get a grip, willing myself to put on a fake smile and pretend like my life depended on it.
Because I didn’t have proof but my gut told me that it did.
I was a survivor. I goddamn better start acting like one.
I opened the door, steam escaping the enclosed space like mist from a sauna to caress my exposed skin.
Henri’s eyes lit up with unabashed appreciation, pleased I’d followed his instruction. The smile of the benevolent billionaire had returned as if all was forgiven. “Come, Nicole,” he invited, reaching for me. I allowed him to slowly twirl me as he delighted in his shiny, clean toy. The drag of his gaze like fingers across my body, felt intrusive and wicked. “You are exquisite,” he murmured, sliding the robe from my shoulders as it pooled at my feet. He met my gaze. “What shall we do now, little bird?”
Assuming pecking your eyes out isn’t an option…”Whatever you want,” I answered dutifully, settling into the role, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. “I’m yours for the night.”
“Indeed you are,” he agreed, dipping to press his lips against my skin, his tongue darting to taste my collarbone, to nibble on my neck. “Indeed, you are.”
I closed my eyes and imagined him dead.
For the first time since starting this journey, a smile found me.
Whatever it took to get through this night…I would do.
11
“I confess, I enjoy this sweeter version of you,” Henri said, his satisfied tone grating on my nerves. He was so stupid he couldn’t see that I was lying through my teeth and that I loathed everything about him. “You are a smart girl. You’ve realized with the right attitude much is possible.”
I smiled but remained silent. In my experience silence provoked more confessions than questions. People — particularly self-centered narcissists — often couldn’t wait to tell you what to think or feel based on their opinion. Henri was turning out to be no different.
“As I said, you are different than most girls from the auction. I like that about you.” He leaned forward to murmur, “but what I like most is knowing that you’ll always remember that I was first between your legs.”
It was a fact I wanted to erase from my memory. “Thank you for being gentle,” I lied, pretending to blush. “You were very kind even when I was difficult.”
He was feeling generous. Henri chuckled and tweaked my nipple as if it were his right to do so. “All is forgiven,” he said. “A show of spirit is good. Fucking a doormat isn’t enjoyable.”
“I can only imagine,” I said.
“Oh, some are dreadfully dull,” he shared as if we were true lovers and not victim and rapist. “That’s when you have to be creative to liven things up but that wasn’t necessary with you. Not that I’d dream of marring that lovely skin. Such a tragedy that would be.”
I thought of the closet full of whips and chains he had hidden from view and I smothered a shudder. I had a pretty good idea of how Henri “livened” things up. “
Clearly, Henri liked playing the part of the kinky billionaire with his room full of sexual surprises but I’d happily avoid playing his captive whipping girl for his sick entertainment. Something told me in his world, there was no such thing as a “safe” word.
I deliberately steered the conversation. “This whole arrangement is wild to me,” I said, playing the naive child for his benefit. “I mean, for one, it’s so crazy that I was picked for this honor but I have no idea how she knew I’d be a good fit. Do you know Madame Moirai? How did you get involved with the auction?”
He bopped me lightly on the nose, something I immediately hated but hid my desire to punch him in the face. “So many questions. I love your lively mind. However, we must remember that too much curiosity can put one such as you in dire circumstances. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, little bird.”
“I’m sorry, I’m just so curious,” I said, ducking my gaze. “Forgive me.”
“Of course,” he said, pulling me into the cove of his arms. I forced myself to relax, swallowing the bile in my throat. “I have a confession, little bird. You make me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time. I like this game.”
“What game?” I asked.
He rolled me to my back so he could stare down at me with a knowing gaze. “The game where you pretend to be malleable and demure,” Henri answered, his gaze narrowing. “I’ve seen the hatred flash in your eyes and yet you play the softened dove. You amuse me. You are unpredictable. I like it,” he decided.
He’d called me out. Maybe he wasn’t as stupid as I thought. Or I wasn’t as good at hiding my true feelings. Either way, I was found out. I lost the timidity in my tone as I stared up at him. “So what now?” I asked, dropping the useless act. “Are you hoping to liven things up by beating me with your assortment of whips and chains?”
“And brutalize that exquisite skin?” he retorted, shaking his head. “No, even I couldn’t do something so cruel.” He smiled, adding, “At least, not to you.” I knew with a certainty that Henri had likely hurt someone else in this room. He was playing a part. In this particular game, he’d decided to play the role of the generous lord, only acting out in cruelty when he deemed it necessary to teach a lesson. Such as now. He cupped my breasts, filling his palms as he squeezed almost painfully. “Little bird, you have no true understanding of how lucky you are. Aside from your perfect body, your stubborn little mind fascinates me. Even knowing that you are helpless to stop me from doing anything I please to your body, you still snap and spit your venom. Where do you get such blind courage?”