Page 98 of Sinful Blaze

Fuck.

“Fall in line” is the only phrase that comes to mind, because that’s exactly what they’ve been doing. Men opening doors for me, offering assistance with carrying my bags, ducking out of the way and damn near sprinting away to clear the sidewalk.

And the women? Envy. Pure, barely-masked envy.

Everyone sees this collar and they know something I’ve been too stupid to see.

Ophelia, the woman who is supposed to be my mother, straightens herself and proudly smooths out her dress. “Well, I’m glad we’ve reached a point of clarity. Accuse me of whatever you want, my dear. Just remember how I looked out for you when none of them had the decency to.”

She stops on the threshold and casts one more look back over her shoulder. “Branded like a dog… and you didn’t even know.”

Then she leaves before I have the chance to respond. Before I can even collect my thoughts.

But I’m sure she doesn’t need to hear them.

She could see them written all over my face.

38

DAPHNE

I’m angry.

No, scratch that.

I’m fucking pissed.

At my mother, yeah, because—well, I’ve been pissed at her my whole cursed life. But more than that by several orders of magnitude is the single name pounding through me with every beat of my pulse.

Pasha.

To steal a phrase from Ophelia: how dare he? How dare he collar me like some fucking mutt? I didn’t consent to this shit!

Consent. Ha! Does he even know what that is? Or does he just dance through life openly manipulating everyone and everything into doing what he wants?

That thought makes me freeze in my tracks.

Did he manipulate me into believing that he was some kind of hero, just to get in my pants? I’d believe it if anyone told me that’s exactly what happened. The Pasha I met at the auction and the Pasha currently lording over my every inch of existence seem like two entirely different people.

I find charm attractive. Smiles. A great sense of humor.

I don’t sleep with insufferable egos.

The back of my mind whispers, Conrad, as a reminder of how I have absolutely slept with insufferable ego aplenty, but I shove that shit back down and tell it to shut the fuck up.

I don’t have time to dig into the past.

I need to put my foot down in the here and now.

I shudder as I enter the penthouse. You know, the one he manipulated me into. Corralled like cattle. At this point, it’s amazing to me that he hasn’t just whipped out a hot poker and told me to bend over so he can stamp his name right on my damn ass cheek.

Teeth clenched, I charge into the steamed-up bathroom and rip open the shower door.

“Did you brand me?”

Pasha wipes his eyes. “The hell are you talking about?”

“This!” I rip off the necklace, ignoring the painful pinch at the back of my neck where the clasp breaks open. “Is this a fucking collar? Like I’m some property you can just tag as yours? Finders fucking keepers?”

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