Page 28 of His Property

“No. I won’t. As long as you respect the other guidelines I’ve written out, I’ll trust you not to take things too far. You have to trustmeto give you what you want.”

I hold the list up, my eyes scanning the paper, and huff. “Other guidelines like,must give a minimum of thirty minutes of aftercare?No scarring of the face, neck, hands, arms, or chest? Jesus, should I put on a suit and learn to play the piano? Do I seem like Christian Grey to you?”

She squints and studies me for several seconds while I seethe.

Calm down.

Just calm down.

It’s okay.

My hands ball into fists, and I suddenly wish I had taken longer with Andre the Giant. Mae’s afraid of me taking things too far, but if she keeps pushing, I’m going to. I know myself. I know what happens when I lose control.

“Who have you watchedFifty Shades of Greywith?”

My jaw is clenched impossibly tight, and I force my hands to stay still. Is she fucking serious?

“He doesn’t play the piano until the third movie. Or book, but I’m guessing you didn’t read it. Who are you watching movies like those with?”

Inquisitive little mouse, isn’t she?

Mae looks up toward the ceiling where the faint sound of Jeopardy can be heard.

“Why don’t you just explain to me your rules so I can reject them and we can move on?”

She tilts her head back down to meet my eyes. “Why don’t you tell me who you’re hiding me from, then we can discuss terms.”

I keep my mouth shut and glare at her.

“Is it a girlfriend?” she asks, her brows creased while she considers it.

I open my mouth, fully intending on denying that there’s anyone, but I wind up closing it and sighing. I run my hand through my hair and wish I hadn’t ended up with someone observant.

I rub the back of my neck and close my eyes while I try to deal with the turmoil of emotions inside of me. I’ll admit, she’s wearing me down.

“Why does it matter?” I ask.

“Because I need to know who I’m supposed to be quiet for and what all they know. I want to prepare a story for myself beforehand for when they inevitably find me down here.”

“No one will find you.”

She waits a few seconds to respond, but the skepticism is written all over her face. “What makes you so sure?”

Because my sister can’t make it into a bathtub by herself, let alone down a flight of stairs. Worst case scenario, shedoeshear Mae scream, and I have to lie to her and tell her I was forced to bring someone here for work purposes. She’ll be pissed at me and probably disgusted, but she’ll never see my prisoner. Or ‘partner’ if Mae gets her way. Which she fucking will because I’m an idiot and figured she’d be far too afraid of me to pull some shit like this.

“I just am.” I tap the paper. “Talk about your terms. Now.”

She hesitantly takes the paper from me and tucks her hair behind her ears. She looks at the list then back to me. “I already told you why I want the safe word, and it should be obvious to you why I added the rule about the scars.”

I wave for her to go on, and she glances down at the paper and back up at me.

“I want the aftercare because it’ll help me build trust for you, and it’ll ensure there’s some thought put into my emotional and physical well-being.”

I roll my eyes but don’t argue. This risk isn’t fucking worth it. I might as well join another club.

“I want my students’ term papers because those papers are worth a third of their grade, and they’re counting on me to get those posted.”

She pauses like she’ll think I’ll argue, but I’m only trying to guess how much she can take before she blurts out her safe word. Probably the sight of a knife. The slap of a palm across her ass. I bet she’s the type of girl who thinks handcuffs are kinky.

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