My heart beats harder, faster. That’s even better. He wouldn’t dare do anything if I-
“You’ll dress up, look fantastic, and be perfect. In every way. I do mean every way, Rosalind. If you do anything even remotely out of line, don’t think I won’t stop you. I’m well known and no one, I mean no one, will come to your rescue. All you’ll do is piss me the fuck off.”
“I-”
“Sweet Rose,” he says, smoothing a strand of my hair from my cheek, his tone and touch at odds with his words. “My sweet little Rose, I really want this understood. Okay? Don’t piss me off. You know what’ll happen if you fucking do.”
“No.” I try and breathe. “Yes. I don’t know.”
“If you piss me off, I’ll spank you, fuck you, then let my men have their turns with you before I kill you.” He slides a finger across my lips, dipping between them a moment. “Understand? Believe me, if they get their hands
on you, you’ll be screaming for death. Are we clear?”
I swallow hard. “Crystal.”
He slips his hand into my hair and cradles the back of my head, drawing me in to brush his mouth over mine. “I’m not kidding. I will let them do whatever the fuck they want to you. Fuck every hole. At the same time. Do things to you that your sheltered little imagination can’t even begin to fathom. Okay?”
“Yes.” I stare at him, wide eyed. I want to shake. Throw up. I want to get to my knees and promise him everything, because I might be sheltered but I have an excellent imagination and I… I can imagine all those horrible things and more. I really want to say he won’t do it, but I’m not about to put that gamble to the test.
“Yes,” I say again, my voice a rough, scared little whisper. “I’ll be good. I’ll do anything you say, Nikolai. Just…”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” He pulls a box from the chair. It’s big, black, glossy carboard, tied with a thick, black ribbon. “Glad we had that talk.”
He sets it down next to the toast I no longer want. I recognize the shape and look of a designer dress box. There’s no name, so whoever the designer is, they’re beyond exclusive. Maybe bespoke. It’ll be beautiful, I know that. He likes expensive, unique, every last detail considered.
“This,” he says, tapping the glossy box, “is your dress. The other items are arriving soon, so be a good girl and get ready. I’ll have the rest sent up when they arrive. When you’re ready, meet me back here, twelve on the dot.”
I frown. “I don’t have a phone or a watch.”
He undoes his watch. Patek Phillippe is the name on the gorgeous watch face, the numbers and hands and other little parts telling me this thing is worth a fortune. “Borrow this.”
I take it with trembling fingers and pick up the box, heading to the door.
“Oh, and Rose?” I pause at his call. “Fuck that watch up and my little rule about your behavior applies. I happen to like that one.” He picks up his iPad. “Do you recall what happened last time you were disobedient?” My ass throbs. “Yes.”
“This time I might not be so forgiving. Don’t be late. You’ve been warned, Rosalind.”
“Yes sir,” I mutter as I hurry out of the room.
I’ll say one thing for the murderous monster downstairs: he has exquisite taste.
The dress is absolutely breathtaking. I struggle to get the zip up on my own, but once I finally get it, I stand in front of the mirror with my jaw on the floor. I look… sophisticated. I look like the kind of woman who belongs on the arm of a man like the gorgeous Nikolai.
My nails are a dark red gloss, courtesy of the bottle of polish he had sent up. They’re dry now, so I’m safe with the dress. Applying my makeup, I take my time, choosing smoky grays for my eyes, along with the dark red lipstick he got me. This time, I apply some blush, just a hint to accentuate my cheekbones. Good, but… rifling through the bag of makeup I find the pins and set them out.
He had sent up some silk stockings, black to match my dress, with a line up the back in an old-fashioned way that’s impossibly sexy and understated. I smooth them on. No underwear, but that’s his preference, isn’t it? I’m not going to lie-hate the asshole or not, there’s something unbearably hot and erotic about getting dressed up with no scraps of silk and lace beneath.
“Easy access,” I say, breathing the words.
Then there’s the shoes. Black pumps with closed toes, patent leather. They should be garish, but they’re not. The red sole is dark, like blood, the heels black and high, the signature designer sole visible when I walk. I slip them on, and as I put the box down, I notice a small velvet bag.
With trembling fingers, I open it to find pins tipped with rubies, diamonds, and onyx, as well as a metal comb. They’re quality, I know that. I know, without even looking, that the stones are real.
Returning to the bathroom, I pin up my hair, securing it all with an artful scattering of pins, using the comb at the back to hold the twist of my hair. I pull tiny tendrils down to soften the look slightly.
I don’t know who’s looking back at me, but she’s a woman who knows sex, who indulges in all kinds of acts and loves every moment. She’s a woman who can wind a man around her finger and have him crawling back for more. This isn’t me, and while it gives me a surge of forbidden power, I could never pull that off. Then again, if I’m next to Nikolai, that’s exactly what people will think. I look like I belong with him, not to him.
Shit. His warnings and threats flash through my head. I grab his watch -I’ve got minutes to spare. I’d love to tell him to fuck off. I’d love to throw a tantrum and refuse to come down. Hell, I’d love to make the man wait.
But I’m not going to. I don’t want to test him.
With a deep breath, his watch in hand, I head down the stairs towards the devil himself.