Page 20 of His Black Onyx

Our eyes meet across the room but all I know to do is to respond with a confused look.

"Nothing?" he probes. "It's fucking cold in here. I know I need something to warm up, but if you don't... fine."

"Tea," I blurt out. "I'd like tea, please."

He nods, producing two mugs from the cupboard underneath the single counter. I watch as he places a tea bag in each mug before adding the boiling water, moving calmly and with a naturalness that seems misplaced given the circumstances. He's acting as if all of this is normal, as if he hadn't drugged me, abducted me, threatened my life and the lives of my parents, and then forced me to strip down in front of him and perform the intimate task of taking a shower.

What kind of person do you have to be to act like this? How often has he done something like this before?

"Earl Grey is all we have," he announces, as he places one of the mugs next to me on the table, right next to a neatly lined-up row of bullets.

"Thank you."

My acknowledgement feels just as wrong as his nonchalance about all of this, and it's the least sincere thanks I've ever given. Serving me hot tea won't belie the fact that I'm his captive.

"Where are we?" I dare to ask once he's taken his seat across from me. My breath hitches when I realize how preposterously handsome he appears as he leans back with his arms crossed in front of his chest, a sinister smirk on his face.

His response is short, like almost everything he voices. "A safehouse."

"A safehouse where?"

"You don't need to know that," he responds. "It doesn't matter. We won't be staying here for long."

"Why not? Then where are we going?"

He sighs, visibly annoyed at my interrogation. For a moment, I fear that he'll just dismiss me once again, telling me to shut up and listen.

But it appears that he's at least somewhat understanding and intrigued about my curiosity.

"We'll go see the boss in two days," he tells me, speaking as if I knew who 'the boss' was. "And you better be ready by then."

"Ready? For what? You say this as if I had any choice in the matter, or... an idea of what exactly I'm supposed to be doing?"

"You will learn," he says, pinning me down with his unyielding gaze.

"Learn what?"

He clears his throat gruffly. Supporting himself on his elbows, he leans forward and regards me sternly.

"The Scivola family is expecting a submissive girl. A girl who knows her place, who's willing to serve the man to whom she's been promised," he elaborates. "And the man Lailah was promised to, he's not just anybody–he’s the son of one of their bosses. He has seen Lailah only once, but he has heard stories about her that have inflated his expectations. He is expecting a seductive little slave. A beautiful toy for him to play with."

A toy? That's what I'm supposed to become? A sex toy for a spoiled young man to play with?

I don't even try to hide my repulsion at this revelation, my face contorting into a disgusted grimace that provokes a wicked chuckle from him.

"You can't be serious," I hiss at him. "I'm a person! I won't 'learn' how to become anybody's toy! That's sick!"

"Don't worry," he says in a condescending tone that makes my blood boil. "I'll help you get there. I will teach you."

"Teach me? Why you?"

He looks at me, no longer smiling as his expression turns earnest. "Because I'm good at it."

"Good at... what?" I ask, even though I'm scared of the response.

He sighs and shakes his head, signaling that he's not keen on giving me an answer to this one.

"Is that why you made me shower in front of you?" I ask, trying to ignore the violent hammering of my heart. "And why you... touched me like–"

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