Page 57 of Diamond Kisses

He shrugged as I studied him far too blatantly. We barely looked at each other anymore just in case Victor took offense and took it out on Henri. His collar remained hooked to a matching chain, our places on either side of the stage almost comfortably familiar at this point.

Out of all the jewels serving the many Masters, we had it easy.

We were the pawns. The collateral.

Henri was the prize.

Apart from a few pinches in private places, a few slurs, and a few leers…the Masters knew better than to touch us.

For the past month, while Victor dallied with Henri and Rachel steadily grew bigger with their baby, I’d caught a few Masters whispering about their leader. Men flew back to their families while others flew in to indulge in sin, yet all of them watched Victor with a glower that wasn’t there before.

Their secretive glances hinted they were no longer happy to leave Victor in charge. No doubt chaffing at his many rules and wondering why Victor could harm and brutalise a jewel, yet they never could.

Victor hadn’t noticed. Too wrapped up in his games with Henri.

But I had.

I had nothing but time to notice while chained to this wall and watching.

Sick amusement filled me at the thought of the Masters rising up and killing Victor. I almost wanted it to happen. At least Henri would be safe.

But that was a lie I couldn’t swallow.

Victor was the only one keeping the other men from turning into lunatics.

He was undoubtedly deranged. I knew that now. I saw the gleam of insanity in his eyes, growing more unstable by the day as he tortured Henri and preened over Rachel’s ballooning belly. But he still had morals. Still compelled absolute obedience from all those in his home.

Christmas is in two days.

Perhaps that home would be rubble by then.

Perhaps we would all be dead, and these would be my last two nights on this planet.

I looked at Peter again.

His gaze locked on Henri kneeling at Victor’s feet.

Henri kept his chin down, his shoulders slouched, his many bruises decorated with scars from Victor whipping him, cutting him, marking him.

My heart squeezed so painfully, I had to look away.

I caught a glint of black hair in the back corner of the palatial ballroom.

Faiza.

She knelt beside Master W, her hands balled on her thighs, her black lingerie barely covering her stunning body. Feeling me watching her, she looked up.

Instead of dropping her stare and flinching in fear of reprimand, she smiled so big and true my entire body filled with fire.

Christmas is in two days.

And for the first time in a very long time, hope unfurled its tentative wings.

Hope.

That horrible, excruciating emotion.

An emotion I’d done my best to eradicate because it only brought horror and hardship.

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