Merciless

“There are five wings in the estate. And each has their own lock.” I glance down at Aria, listening to her bare feet pad on the marble tile as we enter the foyer. The double-doored entrance is only feet away and I know she’s resisting the urge to look at it.

“There are locks everywhere, inside and out.” She chances a peek at me and stills when she meets my gaze. “I often invite those who I don’t consider friends here and sometimes I don’t want them to leave.”

She’s silent as she considers what I’ve said. Nervousness trickles down her body. It’s in the way she swallows, the way she holds her hands in front of her. The way she almost trips over her own feet. And I love her nervousness.

“The front door, for instance.” I motion toward it and she turns stiffly as if she wasn’t dying to look at it. “That box there, to the right of it. You need a code to open it, from either inside or out.”

“I thought you said it was one or the other.” Her soft voice is questioning. Her hazel eyes peer up at me as if I’ve wronged her. As if I’ve hurt her. “You said a bird can be tethered or caged, not both.”

A smile tickles my lips as I reply, “Haven’t you learned that all you need to do is ask?”

Her lips turn down into a frown, but she stays quiet. She knows she’s caged. Wherever she goes, she will go with me, caged and protected just the same.

“I’m a prisoner,” she says as her voice cracks, and she looks longingly at the front doors. The architecture foreboding in a way that seems to forbid a guest from leaving.

“You were before in your father’s home.” My voice is deep and echoes in the foyer. Her eyes reach up to mine in shock as I continue, “Afraid to leave. Afraid to do anything without permission.”

“I wasn’t afraid,” she whispers, and I know she’s well aware of the lie she’s spoken.

“You let fear rule you. Don’t lie to me.” Unease trickles through me. The realization of what she truly fears could change everything.

“How do you know what I did and didn’t do?” she asks weakly, denying the truth and deflecting her attention to something else.

Since she lied to me, I present a lie to her in return. “When you were offered to me, I did my research. I have friends in your father’s army of men. Eyes and ears who offer information for a certain price. I know you spent almost all of your time alone in your room. Maybe that’s why it took so long for you to obey me. You’re used to cells.”

Her mouth parts, no doubt with a rebuttal, but wisely she slams it shut before a word is spoken.

Time passes as we move on. Both of us quiet. Both of us in our own world of denial.

“Your things can be moved to my office, den, or the bedroom. The drawing pad and whatever else you want,” I offer her but still, she’s quiet. Her fingers fidget with one another throughout the tour of the two wings she’s allowed to enter. She doesn’t seem to look at anything or notice anything at all unless we pass a window, which, as I pointed out, have locks on them as well.

“Why are there five wings?” she asks me as I lead her to the grand kitchen. She still hasn’t eaten and she needs to. There’s no reason for her not to and the threat of sending her back to the cell if she doesn’t, is so close to being spoken to life. I’d rather save it for something else, something more meaningful. But my little bird needs to eat.

“I had four brothers and decided they should each have their own wing,” I tell her and step into the kitchen. The garden is just beyond the back wall, lined with black glass from floor to ceiling. The floors are a dark walnut and polished so smoothly I can see our reflection in them.

Her eyes move across the sleek, modern kitchen, from the high-end cabinets to the white granite countertops. Everything is done in white. It’s clean and modern and balances the black glass perfectly.

I anticipate her saying many things, but not the next words that spill from her lips.

“I’m sorry.”

My forehead pinches with a deep crease. “For what?” I question.

“You said you had four brothers. I take it that one or more have passed?” She turns to face me and her hip brushes one of the stools to the island. I can tell she’s not sure if she should sit or not, and I leave her wondering. Just like I leave the pangs of regret and sadness to settle in my gut. Instead, I focus on how discerning Aria is. She’s a deadly combination of beautiful and perceptive. I need to remember that.

“Carter,” Jase calls out from behind me and when I turn his steps slow. His eyes drift from where I am, almost blocking Aria from view, and then to her.

“I didn’t realize you were busy,” he says to me although his eyes travel down Aria’s body. Even with her robe tied tightly with the sash and covering her décolletage, she looks like she was made to tempt.

“What is it?” I ask him and again he looks at her. From my periphery, I watch her glance at the floor and those fingers of hers continue making tight knots around one another.

Gripping the back of her neck, just slightly, she stops her fidgeting.

They both want to know what she is to me. I can see it written on their faces as much as I can feel the tension in the air.

It doesn’t matter what she is, so long as they all know she’s mine.

Even more, I know Jase is questioning the way I hold her at this moment and why she’s out of the cell. Maybe he’s wondering how long I’ll keep her out here. Or how long I’ll keep her period.

I make soothing strokes with my thumb along the back of her neck as Jase tells me something about a car. I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about. I don’t give a damn either. I assume it’s some update about the supply, but he doesn’t want to speak openly in front of Aria.

My little songbird relaxes under my touch, peeking up at me every so often. I know she’s wondering what he thinks of her.

“Aria,” I say her name in the middle of whatever Jase was saying and he falls silent. “I’d like you to step outside, so I can talk to Jase.” All I can hear is her breathing in this moment. The fear, the hope, the surprise of her surroundings. My poor Aria knows so little. But she’ll learn.

She quickly nods but she doesn’t move until my hand slips down her back, leaving a trail along the silk. Jase stays by the island, his hands in his pockets as I lead her to the door. It’s black glass as well and blends into the wall, only opening when a verified print is pressed against the biometric security panel. Aria watches intently, but she wouldn’t be able to open it if she tried and with fifteen-foot walls around the garden and a guarded fence around the estate, she won’t be able to run.

I can see it on her face when the realization registers with her.

“And when I’m done with this conversation, it’s back to the bedroom.” I lean in closer to her and whisper in her ear, “I’m going to fuck you until I’ve had my fill.”

The sound of Jase’s footsteps lets me know he’s coming as I watch Aria walk into the garden, letting the sun hit her face as if it’s the first time she’s ever experienced it.

“I have Jared on the lookout at the club. We’ll have a list of the heavy buyers of S2L by the end of the week.”

“Perfect,” I answer him although I watch Aria walking deeper into the garden to lie on a patch of grass. “Anything else?”

“Talvery knows we have her.”

A smile pulls my lips up. “It took him long enough. One of Romano’s men leaked it?”

I turn to Jase, who’s watching Aria as he nods. “It couldn’t stay secret forever.” He turns to look at me before adding, “He’ll come for her.”

“He’ll want to,” I correct him. “But which of his men would be willing to come here and die for her?”

“She speaks highly of Nikolai,” Jase offers, and I can see the hint of a smile on his face. Aria’s first week in the cell gave me plenty of information as she talked out loud to nothing but brick walls, begging for help and companionship. Nikolai’s name slipped from her lips nearly every single fucking day.

“Let him come. He can be the first of them to die.”