Page 40 of Diamond Kisses

The door swung wide, cutting off my prayer and wrenching my eyes open.

“Time to go, little jewel.” The guard who’d shoved me into the bedroom waved his arm toward the corridor. “Quickly now.”

I’d contemplated asking him if he was one of Stewart and Ben’s friends. I’d stared into his eyes, doing my best to see if he played two roles. But I hadn’t dared ask. Not because he might tattle on me but because the cameras certainly would.

If he was on our side, it didn’t matter.

There weren’t enough on our side, and as long as it remained an unwinnable fight, no one would stand up against Victor because everyone had seen what happened to Henri.

A Master turned slave.

Yet another jewel at the whim of Victor’s monstrous mercy.

“Get.Now.” The guard snapped his fingers, his brown hair spiked with gel.

Standing on hunger-shaky legs, I left my blanket behind and padded barefoot toward him. I’d found a single piece of clothing on the bed after my shower and chose to wear it instead of letting pride keep me bare.

The guard’s dark gaze raked over me. He grinned. “That colour suits you.”

Smoothing down the tightest, slinkiest silver teddy, I held my chin high even as my nipples pebbled the satin and cool air licked between my naked legs.

Victor had dressed me in silver.

Dressed me like the star I’d just wished upon.

It was up to me to continue glowing…for just a little longer.

* * * * *

I tripped as the guard marched me into the ballroom.

I would’ve fallen flat on my face if he hadn’t grabbed my elbow and kept me standing. “This way,” he muttered.

My heart switched from skittering with weakness to galloping with fear.

Henri.

God…no.

I struggled as the guard yanked me toward the stage where Peter already stood in fresh linen trousers. His ribs cut into his now clean chest, his hands balled at his sides, his golden collar leashed to the podium.

He gave me a sad shake of his head as the guard secured my collar to a matching cord, tethering me to the other corner of the stage. All around us, Masters chuckled and sipped expensive drinks. Jewels kneeled on the dance floor and the energy of terror and indulgence wafted thicker than the scents of butter and tarragon.

But I only had eyes for Henri.

He stood in the centre of the stage, shackled to a maypole like the one where he’d taken me the first time after he bid and won Victor’s twisted auction. His cuffed wrists locked above his head, his neck held in place by a chain hooked to his collar, his bare body so lean and bruised, so stretched and on display.

Tears strangled my throat, but I refused to let them fall.

Our eyes met.

He gave me a smile as if nothing was wrong. As if he was dressed in a fine suit and sitting down with the other men instead of spread and bound for their pleasure.

Don’t watch. He narrowed his eyes.Promise me.

I’m with you. I shook my head.I’m not going anywhere.

He sighed and dropped his chin.

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