Page 53 of Trapping His Darling

“Come, Tiffany. Sit,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble that brooked no argument.

I hesitated, every instinct telling me to turn around and walk out of this gilded nightmare, and never look back. But as if he heard my thoughts, Viktor’s cold, piercing eyes locked onto mine.

Fuck, he was handsome. And we were now married. There was no leaving. For either of us.

Reluctantly, I moved to the table, to where he held out my chair, so I could take the seat opposite him. The chair was plush, almost too comfortable, as if mocking my unease. Viktor watched me, his expression unreadable. This form of intimacy wasn’t something that I was used to.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, his tone softer but no less menacing. A familiar sign of lust showed on his face as he resumed his place at the table.

“Thank you.” I forced a small smile as I responded, growing more comfortable in my naked skin. I wished I could see myself through his eyes. He seemed to devour my curves, as his gaze moved down my body then back up again.

He lifted a crystal glass filled with red wine and swirled it, and the deep crimson liquid caught the light. “To us,” he said, raising his glass in a toast.

I mirrored his action out of habit, clinking my glass against his. “To us,” I echoed hollowly, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. It wasn’t justusin the room.

With a heavy exhale, I took a small sip. The wine, warm and heady, did little to calm my nerves.

“I had the chefs prepare all your favorites,” he offered.

At the prompting, I looked down at the food, meticulously arranged on fine bone china. I loved how he stalked me. Everything was perfect.

I picked up my fork and forced myself to take a bite, the flavors exquisite in my mouth, but hard to swallow. Anxiety tightened my throat. I couldn’t get out of my head. I could feel the gazes of the three servants on me. I did not like to eat in front of others, especially while so vulnerable.

An effective punishment.Well played, sir.

I wanted to get dressed.

Viktor cut into his Bulava steak with precision. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

Viktor’s voice was deceptively gentle, but I knew better. There was always a price for honesty in his world. “I would like to wear clothes,” I mumbled.

“No.” He simply replied, then nodded toward my plate. “Eat.”

Frustrated, I tossed my fork on the table, the clatter of which was loud in the quiet. “You’re not listening to me. I want to wear my clothes. I don’t like this. I’m not comfortable.”

Viktor slowly set his utensils down, and cleaned off his mouth with his napkin, all while never taking his eyes off me. He then stood, slowly, his gaze intense like a predator stalking its prey.

My breath caught in my throat when he leaned down to speak to my ear.

“Are you not mine?” he whispered.

“Y-Ye-Uh-n-no,” I stammered out a confusing response.

Viktor pulled out my chair. “Rise,” he commanded.

His tone brooked no argument. I did as he told me, trembling in anticipation. Was I getting to go to the room for clothing? Or was this something more nefarious?

“Kneel.”

Apparently it was the latter.

I quietly grumbled my displeasure as he helped me to the ground. If he heard my softly spoken threats, he didn’t let itshow. What was he going to do to me in front of these servants? My thumb flicked open my antique ring.

“Open for me.”

I followed his commands, parting my lips and holding my tongue out. I’m not sure if that was what he was wanting, but I couldn’t help but brat him a bit. After all, he had me naked on the floor in front of all his serving staff, and he had freed his erection.

“What a beautiful sight you make,” Viktor whispered, his tone reverent as he gently tangled his fingers in my hair, and lifted my head so I could meet his gaze. “It’s not a hardship punishing you. You like my discipline, yes?”

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