Page 45 of Coal Hearts

“Don’t ever call me sunshine again. My name is Ily. Not sweetling. Not pet. Not sunshine. Ily. The least you can do is grant me that.”

Victor sucked in a breath, and Roland groaned. “Goddammit, I need her. Victor? Please?”

The plane levelled out as we reached cruising altitude. A couple of bumps as lightning forked out the window. The air hostess appeared from the back galley, drifting along each row to close all the oval windows. The snick of the shutters being pushed down made Ily flinch beside me.

Roland shoved down his window blind, motioning for me to do the same. I had questions but obeyed, blocking out the night-wet clouds.

Only once each blind was closed and the entire plane was blindfolded did I understand. “You don’t want us to see any landmarks as we fly to your estate.”

Victor accepted a glass of whiskey from the air hostess with a tilt of his chin. “You’re perceptive, and yes. My home is my sanctuary. I’ve spent decades building a personal Elysium, and until I know you can be trusted, you won’t be given its location.” He saluted me with his crystal goblet. “I’m sure you can understand.”

I nodded. “Of course.”

“It’s not hard to figure out,” Ily muttered. “Three-hour travel time from Paris? That means whatever seedy sex dungeon you’re running could be in the Balearic Islands, Corsica, Sardinia, Malta...”

Victor smiled. “You’re intelligent as well as beautiful. Tell me...do you study maps for fun, or do you merely like trivia?”

“If you must know, I’m fascinated about what stones come out of what countries. What pressure and rock composition are needed to form so many different gemstones. Each continent is unique.”

“As are you.” His smile widened; a wicked glint appeared in his navy eyes.

Ah, shit.

She really shouldn’t have done that.

Shouldn’t have tried to make him see her as someone when the only way she’d survive is if he merely saw her as everything else.

I stifled a groan as Victor murmured, “Am I right in thinking you’re a gemmologist?”

Ily stiffened, giving the answer away without replying.

Victor grinned. “And now, you definitely have me intrigued.” Sipping his drink, he added, “In my Jewelry Box, I have all manner of skilled jewels. I believe we welcomed a Michelin star chef two months ago, and last year, we were joined by an Olympic equestrian. I pride myself on offering all kinds of priceless experiences to my guests, and you, my sweetling, have just ensured I will be your personal teacher.” His gaze hardened as it flashed to Roland. “Your request to be her second is denied.”

Leaning across the aisle, Victor stroked a finger up Ily’s bare leg then circled her kneecap. “Henri can still have first taste as I don’t go back on my promises, but once he’s had his fill?

...

You’re mine.”

Chapter Eight

...............................

Ily

––––––––

YOU’RE MINE.

You’re mine.

Victor’s words echoed over and over again. I couldn’t look at the older man. Couldn’t allow his greying blond hair, lean frame, and merciless blue gaze to haunt me any more than he already did.

Unlike Henri, who’d entranced me from the first moment I saw him, Victor petrified me. Henri might wear his tall height and broad shoulders with animalistic power, but the Master Jeweler? He wore charming to hide the viciousness within.

An hour passed, then two.

By hour three, I couldn’t do it anymore.