Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“You’re doing it again,” I seethe. “Furious at me for doing literally nothing.”
I expect his anger. A hand at my neck, another slap to my backside. Instead, he silently watches me tug viciously at my clothing. I shove the pants off and kick them to the side, then tug at my panties and rip them off. I pull my top off and whip off the bra, throwing them all in a pile, until I stand in front of him, furious and naked.
“Is this what you want?” I ask him. “Sir?”
His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “Yes,” he says, in a calmer voice than before. Reaching for the chain, he gives it a little tug and leads me to the bedroom. There are silver trays waiting on the table, the smell of something savory and rich filling my senses. My stomach churns with hunger. I didn’t realize how hungry I was, but it’s been hours since I’ve eaten.
I know what he’ll do next before he does it. Sitting at the table, he draws me, naked, onto his lap, lifts the silver lids, and feeds me in silence. I’m so eager for food and so tired of his mood swings, I take the food from his fingers gratefully. There’s buttered bread with thick slices of deli meat, a pretty beet salad garnished with chopped, hard-boiled egg, wedges of cheese, and a plateful of what looks like dumplings. I never eat such a variety of food, and my appetite is quickly sated.
“That’s enough, thank you,” I say to him politely. When I’ve finished eating, he tucks me against his left arm and feeds himself with his right. Though he sits upright and eats politely with utensils, I get the decided feeling he’s like an animal eating its prey with bared teeth and vicious bites. Food is a mere means to an end for him, and it seems he’s lost all the joy in it.
With my tummy full, tucked into his side where I’m warm, safely pulled away from the uncomfortable stares of the men downstairs, I feel emboldened.
“Do you dislike eating, sir?”
He pauses with a large crust of bread raised to his mouth. “No,” he says. “Why would you think that?”
“You eat as if it’s nothing but a utilitarian effort,” I remark. “I’m just curious why.”
Nodding, he takes a big bite of bread, chews, and swallows before he replies. “I’ve got much on my mind, Sadie,” he says, “which is preoccupying me. I dislike that you feel my anger when it isn’t you I’m angry with.”
Something inside me warms, like the tiniest fission of a flame in darkness.
“Oh?” I ask quietly.
“For the past decade, I’ve been trained to hone my temper,” he says. “To channel my anger to do my job. I was trained to do so, and in many ways, it’s served me well. Misplaced compassion never sways me from doing my job. I don’t waver in the face of danger. There is almost nothing that I fear.”
Almost nothing… I long to know what it is he fears, but I know he won’t tell me. Not now.
“The women under me before learned to fear me. The men who work for me do as well, and my enemies do. The only one who doesn’t is Dimitri, but even he has times when he’s close to fear.” He takes another bite of bread and chases it with a long pull from a glass of water before he continues. “And I like that. When people fear me, it empowers me.” Lifting a fork in his hand, he spears a large bite of salad and places it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “But I don’t like that my temper flares around you.”
I frown, trying to understand what he’s saying. Why doesn’t he like that he gets angry around me?
“You don’t fear me the way the others do. I suspect I know why, and the reason unsettles me.”
“Oh? Care to fill me in?” I ask.
His chuckle makes me jump in surprise, and he repeats what he did outside the door before we met everyone. “And now I remember what I said earlier means,” he says, shaking his head.
“Yes?” I ask. “Do tell.”
His eyes twinkle. “It means cute,” he says. “The little temper from you, the outrage, it’s like a little child having a tantrum.” Lifting a napkin in his hand, he dabs at something on my lip. “Sometimes, that temper will earn you a good spanking. At other times, it will earn you a sound fucking. And sometimes, you just make me smile.”
“Let’s keep it at the smile stage, please,” I mutter.
He only shakes his head, his eyes sobering. “You are the one that controls what you earn, krastoka.” With a gentle shove, he pushes me off his lap and stretches. “And now that our appetites are satisfied, I’d like to enjoy my spoils. It’s time for my dessert.”