Page 39 of Wilt

“Oh, fuck me.” He tilts his head, considering my words as he sips his coffee. “You’re a bleeding heart, soft as marshmallow in the center. Noble.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” I squint my eyes at him in protest.

“It’s a lie.”

“No.” I shake my head. “It isn’t. You’re just cynical.”

He tsks at my accusation. “No, Rose, I call things as I see them, as they are. Cruel. Violent. I see commodity. People, places. Territories.” He snorts. “Acknowledging costs doesn’t make me a cynic, no matter what Oscar Wilde said.”

I don’t know what to say. I pick up my cutlery and try to eat calmly. Inside, though, I’m a bubbling sea of acid and confusion. Part of me thinks he’s protesting too much. He wants to sell himself as the big bad wolf. Except… he is the big bad wolf; still, he’s more. I sense it. Regardless, I’m treading a fine line, and I need to watch my step. He’s not someone I should sympathize with.

“What about you?” I ask. “Do you have a goal for your life or is this house all you’ve got?”

“I’ve no interest in being a beauty queen or helping others. At least, not unless helping others gets me what I want.”

I nod.

“Rose?”

I look up, curious this time. “Yes?”

“When you leave here, you’ll change. I don’t like that dress.”

I frown. “You want the other one?”

“No. I’ve decided you don’t need any of them.”

What the hell? He wants me naked again? Or… I look at him. “I don’t need clothes anymore?”

He shrugs. “I’ll leave something.” This time, his gaze levels on me and my stomach bottoms out.

“Are… Are you almost done with your plan?” My voice holds a waver I hate.

He doesn’t smile. “Yes.”

I drop the fork. It slips from suddenly nervous fingers; I swallow, but I force myself to look at him. “Are you going to kill me?”

Fear rips into me, now that I’ve voiced it, really, actually voiced it, not a spit of words or a taunt. It’s a genuine question, one from deep in my soul that I need to know the answer to.

His eyes lock onto mine, and he stares at me for a long time, the air around us thickening, crackling and whispering. It’s a strange connection, one of both fear and the underlying need for erotic fulfilment.

There’s also ice, but the ice shifts into consideration and that scares me even more. I want to pick up the fork and continue eating like I don’t care. Alas, Idocare. I’m trapped in his little web, awareness sliding down into my bones.

“I’m not sure yet, Rose.”

Sudden tears push at my eyes, and my vision blurs as I turn to stare at my plate, my food sitting like a lump in my stomach, and I wonder what he’d do if I threw up. Miraculously, I don’t throw up. I don’t cry. Instead, I take in a slow, deep breath and look at him again.

“I really haven’t decided.”

I nod. “What—what will it take to keep me alive? What can I do?”

He shrugs, reaching for his tablet, suddenly completely disinterested. We could’ve been talking about the weather. He glances at me a moment before lifting a finger to his screen and swiping. “I guess you just need to keep me happy.”

Chapter14

Nikolai

Idon’t have anything to do outside the house, and breakfast with Rose was… pleasant, if not surreal. It’s an act, this sudden compliance, but it’s not something I can hold against her. After all, she’s defenseless, with no way out. If the roles were reversed, I’d probably do the same.

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