Page 53 of His Property

“How sweet,” I say, my tone flooded with sarcasm.

“I’m not sweet. It isn’t in my nature.”

I frown and try to make sense of his serious expression. He’s coming off as more reserved than I’ve seen him, and I’m not so sure it’s because of the other men.

“I need you to know that everything Lorenzo said about my intentions was true.”

I feel the urge to break eye contact, so I dip my eyes to the scars on his chest, identical to the ones I found on his legs.

I know I should run from this man. I know. I may be stupid, but I’m an aware kind of stupid.

Maybe it’s because I’m too used to giving trouble-making kids the benefit of the doubt, or maybe it’s because I’ve had kids open up to me about horrors that give me nightmares. I’m not sure what makes me see this man the way I do right now, but I don’t see a monster. I see someone broken. Not the type of broken that can be fixed, but the type that I know will keep me up at night, long after I’m gone.

“I know you’re fucked up,” I admit. “Even more fucked up than me. If that’s what you’re wanting me to understand, then you’re covered.”

He sighs and nods. “Good.” A few seconds pass before he adds. “I need to talk with my sister… I think it goes without saying that you need to leave.”

My chest constricts, but I nod.

This is good.

Great.

Christmas is in three days, and I’ll be able to spend it with my family. No one will have ever noticed I was missing. My life, along with TJ’s, was spared, and I basically got five grand for a few days with a sociopath.

But still, as Victor unlocks the collar then goes to retrieve the dress from his room, I’m conflicted. It feels impossible to go back to a life of lackluster orgasms and a proverbial chastity belt. It feels impossible to hide myself again.

I change into the dress, gather my things, and Victor drives me home. We don’t so much as exchange goodbyes, and I wonder if his reason for it is because he thinks I hate him. I don’t.

As I walk up to my front door and retrieve my spare key from a plant, my shoulders are hunched and I’m frowning.

I wonder if I’ll ever see Victor again.

15

VICTOR

Achill runs through me, and I can’t tell anymore if it’s from the cold front that’s coming through or if it’s nervousness. My fingers that drum against my leg are definitely not cold.

I meet the eyes of people passing by the front entrance of Mae’s church, waiting for a pair to be hers. I’ve only been standing here for fifteen minutes, but the discomfort is unsettling. It’s been fifteenyearssince I set foot in a church, and even then, it was Catholic. Mae’s family is Baptist. I’m out of my comfort zone.

A woman in a red dress gives me the once over as she walks by, and she lifts her lips into a flirtatious smile. Normally, I find it cute when women flirt with me, and I play along, but tonight I break eye contact and stare toward the parking lot.

Maybe I should’ve called.

Or texted.

Or showed up at her house instead.

I scratch my head and consider making my way back to my car, but Mae appears. Her head is down, and she’s rustling through her purse. She’s wearing a long-sleeve, turtleneck white sweater dress, and she has black pantyhose and long black boots to match.

I saw her two days ago and can admit she looked as worn out as a person can, but she carries herself well tonight. Her hair is pulled back and doesn’t at all resemble the frizzy mess I ran my hands through in my home. I don’t know which look I like more. She’s gorgeous put together, but I’m addicted to her raw form.

My chest constricts, and I ready myself. She gets closer and looks up from her purse. As soon as she sees me, she halts, and her eyes go wide with surprise.

What if she runs?

Fuck, this was such a bad idea.

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