Page 59 of Preferential Treatment

Kate could never have done any of those things for Angel. Plus, Theo had actually complied with Anna’s wishes, whereas Angel would probably chew off her own foot to escape if Kate ever tried putting her in rehab.

But why were Anna and Theo so different from Kate and Angel?

The answer was still money. They’d grown up middle class. They’d never had to decide whether to eat expired food or go hungry. They’d never had to use dish soap as shampoo. They’d never had to go to school commando because neither of their parents had bought them new underwear in over a year. Angel and Kate had grown up living every moment in survival mode. Kate had survived by detaching from her family so that they didn’t drag her down with them. Angel had survived by clinging to whatever scraps of pleasure she could find, never mind that they were self-destructive.

But Kate had money in the form of a pet billionaire. She just had to play her part, and she could make the changes she’d needed when she was a kid.

She pulled her phone out and texted Anna. Give me the names of some good charities that help children in poverty.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Kate arrived at Mikhail’s the next night on a tide of mixed feelings. The raw hurt of realizing her deepening feelings were entirely one-sided stood in direct opposition to her libido, which was eager to play after several days of necessary respite.

David showed her up to Mikhail’s study right away and then left for the evening, as he—and the rest of the household staff—did every time Kate was over. Would that change if Kate accepted Mikhail’s proposition? If she was with him every day, all day, the staff couldn’t be expected to vacate the premises every time she and Mikhail wanted to fuck.

It was pointless to wonder. She couldn’t accept his offer, and so the question was moot. She forced herself instead to focus on what she could have, which was this particular moment, where Mikhail was entirely hers, and questions of love didn’t matter. His devotion, in this regard, was unshakeable.

“Hello, knyazhna,” he greeted her from his seat behind his desk, folding his laptop closed as she stepped into the room.

Instead of a greeting, she walked up to his desk and laid a slip of paper down in front of him. Written on it was the name of a non-profit that provided clothing to children in need, especially outerwear like boots and jackets.

“I want a hundred thousand sent here.”

Mikhail frowned down at the paper, then up at Kate. “I’ll happily give money to you, knyazhna. Why won’t you—”

“Did I ask for your input? Or did I give you an order?”

“Knyazhna,” he began in a conciliatory tone. “Let me—”

“Do I need to remind you of your place? Keep arguing, and you’ll see what it gets you.”

Mikhail paused for a moment, his gaze tracking over her face. She could see the indecision warring behind those glittering, dark eyes. He wanted to obey. He wanted to be punished. She marked the exact moment when the masochist defeated the obedient slave. His expression didn’t shift dramatically, but took on an arrogant slant. He leaned back in his chair, a lazy, insolent posture.

“I’m not trying to argue with you, knyazhna,” he lied, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I just want to serve you in the best way that I can. And I think the best way—”

“You think?” Kate echoed sharply. She circled around the desk, coming up behind Mikhail’s chair. He tried to spin to face her, but she caught the back of the chair, keeping him in place. “Who asked you to think?”

She slid her hands to his shoulders, leaned down, and smoothed her palms over his broad chest. She felt the shallow rise and fall of his breath. She curled her fingers, dragging her fingernails over the thin, fine weave of his shirt, back up his chest.

“I—”

She clasped one hand around his throat, not tight, just a threat. “Shh. You could have been a good, obedient boy, and I would’ve rewarded you. But you chose to be mouthy and belligerent, and now here we are. I’ll give you one more chance.” She tightened her grip, squeezing the sides of his neck. “Send the money, and we can forget all this. I might even let you come.”

A shudder ran through him, like a stallion twitching flies off his hide. “But, knyazhna, wouldn’t you rather—”

She tightened her grip again, pressing in deeply to the thudding pulse on either side of his muscular neck. “I would rather my slave did as he was told, but it looks like I’ll have to beat obedience into him.”

Hot, dizzying pleasure sang through Mikhail’s veins, spangled over his skin. He desperately wanted to yield to Kate’s commands, to please her, but the potency of her ire was too good to pass up. He was lightheaded with it—though that might’ve been her fingers squeezing his carotid arteries.

As if she could read his mind, she suddenly released her hold on him. “Get up,” she ordered icily.

He turned the chair around and stood unsteadily to face her.

“Take your suit off. I never gave you the right to wear clothes around me.”

He undressed with deliberate slowness, watching with pleasure as those flame-blue eyes snapped and sparked with irritation at his pace. She couldn’t accuse him of disobedience.

But she didn’t need to. When his suit coat was on the floor, and his shirt halfway unbuttoned, she reached out and tore the rest of his shirt open. Buttons popped off, pinging against the desk and bouncing on the floor. His dick was instantly hard.

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