Page 52 of Iris' Lying Eyes

My spine cracks when I stiffen, and I march to the door before poking my head around the threshold.

I knew it! Little Miss Mousy stands before Bastion in her maid costume, twirling the fabric between her fingers.

I can’t see him because he’s sitting in a chair, with her tits in his face.

My skin starts to itch, and I grind my jaw.Walk away. Walk the fuck away.

“Am I interrupting?” I ask coldly, triumph surging through my veins when Bastion leans back in his chair and sighs.

“What the fuck do you want, Iris?”

The maid squeaks, backing away, and I roll my eyes. She’s fucking weak.

What could he possibly see in her?

Bastion grabs her waist and pulls her into his lap before poking his head around and meeting my acidic glare. “Well?” he grunts.

Straightening my spine, I study my cuticles and say in my bitchiest tone, “You wanted furniture. I need someone to help me measure the rooms.”

There’s a weird-ass pause in which I bite my tongue to keep from looking up. It’s entirely possible he has other staff, although, beyond his thugs, I’ve yet to see them.

This might backfire, but I’ll take the risk. Jealous or not, the only person who needs to know is me.

When I can take it no longer, I meet his gaze. His eyes are narrowed on my face, but of course, I have no idea what he’s thinking.

Finally, he shrugs. “Come back in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” I sneer, looking at Mouse. “You’re okay with that?”

Her eyes are so wide it’s comical, and I bare my teeth at her, suppressing a smile when she squeaks and stands before rushing from the room.

With triumph burning my veins, I spin for the door. I’ve taken up too much of his time but I stutter to a stop when he says, “Uh-uh, I don’t think so. Get your ass over here.”

Arching a brow, I say, “I’m sure you’re not talking to me.”

“Oh, I’m talking to you all right. On your damn knees. Someone is sucking this dick, and since you just sent Rose away, I guess that’s gonna be you.”

“Rose? How sweet,” I sneer. “I’m not your slave. You want a blowjob; how about you offer something in return?”

He pauses at that, and I glance at my nails, hoping the vibration in my limbs isn’t obvious. The thought of fucking Bastion brings me to my proverbial knees.

But I’m not gonna drop there and beg. Hell no.

“Oh, you’re negotiating now? Since when do whores dictate how they do their job?”

Ice fills the fissures in my heart, and I drop my hand, staring at the wall beyond the open door.

I guess I walked into that one. More the fool me.

Summoning a carefree tone, I smile, but it’s brittle as I say, “I guess whores like me have standards. Too bad you don’t make the grade.”

Stalking away, I duck into an empty room and close the door. The longer I’m here, the more I allow things to penetrate the cage around my heart.

What will happen when I truly bleed?

Sucking in a breath, I pull out my phone and tap out a message before heading back to the room.

Can you at least tell me how much longer?

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