Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“Because you aren’t evil.”
“I just ate out your pussy and came all over you. And you don’t think I’m evil?”
Her brown eyes hardened like she was reliving a distant memory, a painful experience that she struggled to internalize. “Trust me, that’s not evil.”
Now I wondered what else they did to her before I came by the house. I knew Tristan had violent tendencies. The sight of blood was a real turn-on for him. Judging from all the cuts and bruises on her body, he’d made her bleed several times.
“Buy me.”
“Like I said, I can’t afford you.” Tristan wouldn’t put her up for sale. She was a prized possession. Maybe in six months when her soul had been completely crushed and her body began to fail, he would consider selling her off for a decent price. But by then, no one would want her.
I definitely wouldn’t want his leftovers then. “And I’m not gonna steal you.”
“No, you can’t do that,” she whispered.
I wasn’t sure what that meant. Maybe she assumed I wouldn’t be able to pull off a stunt like that. I was certain I could, but I definitely didn’t have the motivation to piss off one of my clients for a beautiful woman. I liked pussy as much as the next guy, but not enough to affect my business.
I had nothing else to say to her. I’d gotten what I came here for, so I stood up.
“Cane, please.” She whispered so no one could hear outside the door. “You’re the only remotely humane man I’ve met. Please don’t leave me here. Please buy me.”
I sat back down again, intrigued that a slave wanted to be resold to another dictator. “If you were my slave, your conditions wouldn’t be much better than this. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side.”
“You aren’t like them.”
She couldn’t be more wrong. “You don’t know me, sweetheart. And you don’t want to get to know me.”
Her elbows hung next to her face, her slender arms rising above her head. The discolored scars were purple and sometimes yellow. One long cut stretched along her underarm to her elbow. There was even a line of stitches down her forearm. She’d obviously been strongly abused but somehow found the strength to remain rational. She didn’t burst into tears or shut down. She still had fire inside her. “You could have raped me, but you didn’t. You’re the first man to hesitate at the word no. You saw the fear in my eyes and backed off. I know a compassionate man when I see one—because it’s so rare. Maybe you’re a criminal or even a murderer. Maybe you deserve to be in jail for all the crimes you’ve committed. But I can say, without a doubt, life with you would be much more bearable than where I am now.”
I would be lying if I said the idea of having her as a slave didn’t arouse me. I pictured her dressed in lingerie all the time, walking around the house with goose bumps along her body from the cold. She would wait on me, prepare my meals, and clean up after me. When I wanted her to suck my cock, I’d command her to get on her knees—and she would obey. And the fact that she would be grateful to have me as a master just made her ownership even more appealing.
But that fantasy would never come to pass. “I’m leaving now. Take care.”
“Cane, please.” Her voice rose in pitch as she let the desperation take over. “I’ll give you anything you want if you help me.”
I grabbed the door handle and turned around. “You have nothing to give, sweetheart. You’re a slave. Your life will be much easier if you don’t forget that.”
Rage burned in her eyes, insulted by the comment because it was true. There was no denying it. It didn’t matter what she used to be in her former life. Maybe she was a teacher. Maybe she was a florist. Maybe she did volunteer work and helped those less fortunate than her. But none of that mattered. Now she was just a slave.
She didn’t even have a name.
5
Crow
I pulled up to the house and handed my car over to the valet. My phone was still blank because Cane hadn’t contacted me since his meeting with Tristan the night before. A part of me worried something went wrong. Cane was a pain in the ass on a personal level, but when it came to business, he was always on his game.
I walked inside and handed my jacket over to Lars.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace.” He folded the jacket neatly over his arm even though he was going to drop it off at the dry cleaners anyway. “Is there anything I can get you before dinner?”
“No. Mrs. Barsetti and I will be eating dinner on the patio this evening.” It was a beautiful day in Tuscany. The sun was bright in a cloudless sky, and the heat had soaked into the Italian dirt. Once the sun set past the hillside, the breeze would rustle through the olive trees and make the white candles flicker on the table. The gentle glow would light up Button’s soft features, particularly those beautiful eyes I was so fond of.