Page 22 of Hearts Of Darkness

His whores?His words settle uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach, and my cheeks redden.

“It’s a conciliatory gesture,” he adds, sweeping his eyes over my face and noting my discomfort. “Don’t read into it any further than that.”

“You didn’t use protection. What about when you’re with your—?”

“That’s not something you need to concern yourself with.”

“That’s not an answer! This is my health we’re talking about. My future.”

He sighs. “I’m clean, and so are you. I have a file of your medical records sitting on my desk downstairs.”

He does?

“So, where’s my file on you? Am I supposed to just take your word on this?”

“Yes. I’ll leave you to eat your breakfast and get dressed.”

He turns and exits the room, and I stare after him for the longest time. So, therearerules in this twisted game of his… I won’t contract an STD, but he’ll shoot me in the head if I don’t do exactly as he says.

Even so, a tiny spark of hope is smoldering away inside me. Despite my angry words, I appreciate the clothes and the breakfast—it’ll be heaven to wear anything other than a crumpled bedsheet.

There’s something else that’s causing this budding optimism as well… He’s gone and left his bedroom door wide open.

I dress before he returns.He’s laid out white lingerie for me too, plus a pair of navy-blue espadrilles.

I slide the sundress over my head and glance at the label. Designer, of course, and no doubt costing more than I spend on utilities in a month. The silky material feels so seductive against my skin, and it fits like a dream.

I never would have chosen it for myself. It’s too low cut. The waist cinches in to show off my slenderness, which in turn emphasizes my generous chest, and it stops a good six inches above my knees. At home I would have left it in the changing room but here, with the relentless heat beating down on the glass windows, it’s almost too perfect to refuse.

Next, I sit down on the edge of the bed and devour thepastries. I’m so hungry I consume every last morsel, spilling crumbs all over the silver tray and the floor. I’m still draining the last of my juice when I hear heavy footsteps in the hallway outside. I scramble to my feet as he enters the room.

He stops short when he sees me. I watch his dark gaze raking up and down my body. I can tell he likes what he sees because that mysterious current has started to wax and wane between us again.

“It suits you,” he states, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind him. “You should wear dresses more often.”

I shake my head. “I don’t like to stand out. To anyone.”

“Everybody stands out to someone.”

“What if it’s not reciprocated?” I tilt my chin in his direction. “Are women forced to suffer because of it? I have no wish to be highly prized thanks to some pretty piece of material. I have better designs for my life than that.”

Or I did until you crash landed into it.

Those cruel lips start curving. “I’d be gravely disappointed if you didn’t. Not after that excellent education of yours.”

“Don’t do that,” I gasp out, feeling violated all over again. “Don’t drop hints like you know everything about my life. It’s creepy and invasive. You may have some list detailing what school and what college I went to, but you will never know what’s in my heart, my thoughts, my desires, my favorite film, book…”

“To Kill A Mockingbird.”

I gape at him.

“It’s your favorite book, am I right?”

Is he a mind reader, too?“How did you…”

“It’s a guess, though rather apt, wouldn’t you agree?” He’s toying with me again. “I imagine everything feels like one long injustice to you at the moment.”

Fuck you!

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