42. Rhaim

42

RHAIM

I texted Sable to take down Lia's Instagram the second I'd stepped off the elevator.

I knew I needed to solidify everyone's opinion of her immediately, and the best way to do that would be to take her on a proper tour of Corvo. Now that she'd been announced, it would make sense to have her by my side and show her off some. So we went through most of the floors, with me arranging proper introductions between her and important staff, the movers and shakers who kept Corvo running, and Lia navigated everything with ease. She gave Ruiz a hug, discussed French vacation locations with the lead in marketing, smiled at the right times, warmly shook hands, asked the right questions, and—more importantly—seemed genuinely interested in people's answers.

To put it simply: she shone.

Part of me wished Nero were there to see it, to appreciate her cheerful, sweet nature, making witty jokes when the opportunity presented itself—fitting in with a mixture of innocence and cunning that disarmed people in turns.

To see her for who she was and get glimpses of who she could become.

But if he couldn't manage it, I supposed I was the next best thing, although currently my role was just to take her seriously.

I acted like she was more important than me at all times, and soon everyone caught on. Not that she required their deference—there was nothing in any of her actions with them that spoke to that—but that she should get the opportunity to earn their respect.

It was the greatest gift I was able to give her, and if I'd possessed a heart anymore, it would have swelled with pride.

And by the end of the day, the people we'd spoken with had started bringing in the things that we asked them—miles of paperwork, emailed spreadsheets, and competent presentations that spoke to Corvo's current financial wellbeing, and why we were worth investing in.

After the last person we met left our office, she looked over at me. "I like this, Rhaim."

"I had a feeling you would."

She went back to thumbing through things, comparing numbers, doing math in her head, and if my chair had been any higher, people outside the glass would've been able to hear my hard on thump against the bottom of my desk.

"Based on the rate of return for your current casinos alone?—"

"I know." I stretched out briefly. "Though there's a lot of volatility in the hospitality market. You can only buffer against financial downturns so much, who knows if there'll be another plague, and natural disasters are a thing."

"Still—anyone would be a fool to not invest in us."

I wanted to pretend she meant the people in this room, instead of Corvo at large. "I agree."

Lia closed the report she was looking at. "Why hasn't my father done this before?"

I wished I could tell her the truth: Because he's dying. Because he wants to keep you safe.

Instead, I shared what I could. "He enjoys being in control."

"Seems a common affliction around here."

"Indeed." By then I'd tamed the rest of my body and stood. It was already six o'clock. "Go home, Ms. Ferreo. This is the last weekend we'll have off for the next three months, most likely." Which was one of the reasons I wanted to start things tonight. I knew once I dragged her into bed with me I'd never let her leave without a deadline. "We'd better make the most of it."

Her cheeks flushed a little at the thought of what I would do to her this evening, and I wondered if she could even imagine half of my intentions towards her: taking her back to my apartment, stripping her, and chaining her to my bed to use whenever the mood struck me.

After all—I owned her.

I wasn't completely an animal; I'd let her read her books between sessions when she didn't need to sleep. And I would feed her, and take her back and forth to the bathroom of course.

But other than that, if my dick so much as twitched, I wanted her to be available to me. I would fuck her any way I was interested in, at any time I wanted to, repeatedly—I would leave my dick inside her when I fell asleep at night, and she would wake up with it hard between her thighs each morning.

After this weekend there would be no doubt in her mind—she would know that she was mine.

And I wanted her to know that that was what she was there for.

My pleasure.

Which wasn't to say that she wouldn't come—I enjoyed the sound of her losing herself immensely.

But her pleasing me was paramount—and I wanted her to get so good at it that it became her second nature at all times, even when she wasn't within six feet of me.

"And pack an overnight bag."

She took a deep and steadying breath, and the corners of her lips lifted up. "Will do."

I went home not long after she left to get things ready. I was a strong believer in having freshly made beds to ruin, and I wanted to stock my previously empty fridge with anything I thought she might like, from strawberries and chocolate all the way up through the Tater Tots and pizza rolls I'd found in her own fridge when I'd detoured to look on my way out of her apartment.

I also bought several bouquets of wild white roses to display, because their subtle scent reminded me of Gracie and the farm—and because in time I wanted both locations, my apartment and the farmhouse, to feel like second homes to her. I wanted them to be as special to her as she was to me—and I fully realized how insane it was of me to even be thinking that.

I barely knew her, and what I was planning to do with her counted as kidnapping in several states. There were no guarantees for any part of our future.

But I couldn't stop myself from hoping nonetheless.

I was heading down the hall to my elevator with my keys in my hand when my phone buzzed, and I pulled it out immediately to find a text from Sable.

I've got eyes on your missing car.

Where?

I texted back.

On fifth, heading north.

Close to Lia's apartment.

It's just three blocks away from her.

"I know," I muttered to myself aloud—and it presented me with several problems.

I didn't want anyone seeing me picking Lia up, much less someone associated with either of the Freddies.

And I didn't like the fact that they were so close to Lia's place.

There was always the chance that it was some sort of strange coincidence, but?—

The car's turning onto her block

Sable informed me.

"Shit." I ducked back into my apartment so I could call Lia in privacy. She picked up at once.

"I'm all packed!" she chirped, and I put her on speakerphone so I could see her through one of my cameras. I got a vision of an empty bedroom, and then she came flying in, smiling and waving at me, with a massive duffle bag on her shoulder.

"How many books are in that thing?" I asked her, trying to soften the upcoming blow.

"The right amount," she said, laughing and rolling her eyes at me. "What's up?"

And while I'd wanted to fuck her before in the abstract, if I could have right now I would have stepped straight through my phone screen. She was agonizingly gorgeous. Half her hair was up—enough for me to mess up—half her hair was down—enough for me to pull on—and she was in an innocent blue strapless-with-sleeves number that I would have pulled her breasts out of in no time to make them jiggle for me. I realized I hadn't gotten the chance to see her expression when I pulled her nipples between my lips and lightly bit them with my teeth yet.

Goddammit.

"Rhaim?" she asked. I heard worry tinge her voice and hated it. "What's going on?"

"I have to cancel on you tonight, little girl."

I watched her delicate face fall. "Why?"

"I can't tell you. But it's important."

"More important than me?" she asked.

"I know," I said. "I can hardly believe it either." I looked around my apartment, into the bedroom where there was a chain with a collar and a lock artfully displayed on the bed, and saw that a white petal had fallen from one of the bouquets. "I promise I will make it up to you."

She took a step nearer to the camera. "Are you okay?" she asked, turning my phrase back on me.

I didn't like the thought of her worrying about me.

It brought up too many painful memories.

Whoever is driving that thing is parked halfway down her block.

Sable's text popped up and I read it quickly.

"I'm fine, moth, truly. But I need to go."

"Will you call me later?"

That was something I could promise—and maybe then I could salvage things. Thirty-six hours with her wouldn't be as glorious as a full forty-eight, but I'd take what I could get.

"Absolutely," I swore, then hung up, grabbed a hoodie, and ran for my door.