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He catches the drop on his thumb, transporting it to my mouth where I eagerly suck it clean, desperate to do well enough that he’ll leave. My stomach rebels, and I shake, sweating as I fight to keep from throwing up, my mind a chaotic and turbulent mess.
“Good girl,” he rumbles from so deeply in his chest it’s more vibration than sound. His mouth moves close to my ear. “I’m going to have so much fun collecting this debt from you.”
He stands and moves past me to the bathroom, straightening his clothing and washing his hands, smoothing his hair, putting himself back together so nobody looking could ever tell what had just taken place.
When he walks back to me—still kneeling, hands flat on the floor like I’m afraid I’ll sail off the edge of the world if I let go—he ruffles my hair.
“If you ever tell anyone what happened here, I’ll go straight to the head and tell her you’re selling coursework to students. I’m sure you can guess what happens next.”
I nod, my head bobbing up and down like an eager toy.
“Tell Marnie and I’ll hurt you so bad you’ll beg to be put down like a dog.”
My shoulders shake, vision blurring as another wave of tears arrive like a flash flood.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
I lever my eyes upward, eventually meeting his as they twinkle with dirty joy. He curls his forefinger under my chin, wiping across my wound until the tip is smeared with blood, then licking it clean.
“Tomorrow evening,” he repeats, patting my cheek with something close to affection. “Then you’re mine until I tell you otherwise.”
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
CONNER
On Friday night,I’m halfway across town, drinking with a couple of colleagues, feigning comradery as I subtly pump them for information, when I get an alert on my phone. Someone’s buzzing the gate.
The cam footage shows it’s Paisley.
What the fuck’s gone wrong?
I excuse myself, citing a home emergency, which is more truthful than half of what I say. My driver pushes against the speed limit all the way back and when I pull in the gate, it’s not even been half an hour. Still, I’m surprised to see her still there, sitting on the bare concrete of the front door patio, knees tucked up under her chin.
“Paisley?” I exit the car, leaving the driver to park in the garage, and quickly cross to her, holding out a hand to help her to her feet.
“I’m sorry to trouble you,” she says from a face that’s ashy grey with worry. “But I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Come on inside,” I tell her, unlocking the door and holding it open for her to enter. “You must be freezing.”
She glances down at her bare arms, covered in goosebumps, and frowns like she hadn’t realised until then how cold the evening air is. I sit her in the lounge and excuse myself, striding to my room to pull off my tie and jacket, selecting a jersey from my ex’s side of the wardrobe for her to wear.
“Oh, I’m fine,” she says, shaking so badly her teeth chatter together. I keep holding it out until it gets awkward enough that she takes the offering, pulling it on and thanking me in a tiny voice.
“Is it something to do with school?”
She hugs herself, unable to meet my eyes, chewing the inside of her cheek until it dimples inwards. Her face twists until I think she’s about to cry, and a surge of protectiveness roars like a lion inside me.
I knew she’d come to me one day; I didn’t expect it to be this soon.
I want to sit beside her, curl her into my arms and rock her, whispering it’s okay.
Instead, I move to the sideboard, pouring a finger of whiskey in a glass for me, then doubling it. “Do you want a drink?”
She bites her lip, frowning. “Is that all right?”
“I mean”—I pull a face—“I’ll need to see some ID first, but it’s fine.”
A ghost of a smile crosses her face, the clasp of her arms easing just a fraction. Not great but better.
