Page 22 of Slay Me

“I’m tired,” I snap back, my fingers wrapped around the cool metal of my ring. “Since you made it quite clear I’m only here because of my great ass, I’d like to get started.”

“Did something set you off today?”

“No. Can we not get started? If you’d rather find someone with a better ass than mine, I’m sure Valentina—”

“I don’t enjoy watching Valentina,” he interrupts. “Her performances are not as—calming as yours.” He takes a step toward me, and my chest tightens. More so when he reaches out and trails a gloved finger down the side of my ring.

“Calming.”

“Yes.”

“I’ve never seen you calm.”

“No?” he asks as he turns and walks toward the record player. “Have you ever seen me angry during one of our nightly meetings?”

I narrow my gaze. “No. But why would you be? I only ever obey.”

The Ringmaster grins. “You are a good girl, Liv.”

Lust pummels me.Damn this man.“Who was that woman earlier?” The irony that now I’m the one postponing is not lost on me.

“Woman?” But he grins. The asshole is enjoying the fact that I’m clearly bothered.

“Never mind. I don’t actually care.” I cross the room to start the damn music myself, but the Ringmaster is faster than I give him credit for. He closes in on me, forcing me to back away until I’m trapped between his hard body and the wall.

“It certainly seems like you care, Liv,” he whispers as he presses both palms above my head. His shirt is partially open, baring a dusting of hair on his chest. I long to reach out and touch it. To run my fingers over his hard body.

“I’m just curious. That’s all.”

“You sure about that? I will happily tell you if you’re curious.” He reaches up and threads a strand of my hair around his finger. “Fuck, I bet it’s so soft.”

I swallow hard. Unsure if I should be turned on or terrified. Truthfully, I’m both. This is completely different than he was before. When I’d questioned him, he’d grown angry. Now, he’s urging me to ask questions he’ll answer.

What the hell is going on? “You’re crowding me.”

“Am I? Do you want me to back off?” He taunts me with his words. “Then tell me to do so.”

“Let me go,” I say, my voice shaking.

“Be assertive, Liv. Harness that fury blood in your veins.”

“Move,” I say, a bit stronger now.

“Not strong enough. Aren’t you tired of having people use you the way they want?” he questions. “Tell me to back the fuck up.”

My blood heats, anger rising. I try not to think of him as the sexy man who took me shopping, who saved me in an alley—not once but twice—and focus only on the fact that he’s the same man who has killed other performers for trying to seek a better life. He’s the man who has practically imprisoned me in lands where I’m hunted. And with all of that in mind, I clear my throat and glare up at him. “Back the fuck up.”

He grins. “There’s my good girl. Now get the fuck out of my office.” He pushes off and heads back toward his desk.

Meanwhile, I remain where I am, blinking rapidly. “Did you just tell me to leave?”

“I did. Your attendance is no longer necessary. I am uninterested in watching you this evening.”

Fear claws its way past my lust. He told me to be assertive, didn’t he? Told me to tell him off. So why the fuck is he angry with me? “Did I do something wrong? You told me—”

“Leave while you have some self-respect, Liv. No one likes those who grovel.” He takes his seat back behind his desk.

“Self-respect?” I choke out.

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