Dressed in a black chiffon skirt and a sleeveless top, I perch on the lounge in the main sitting room. By all appearances, I’m prepared to face the day, makeup flawless and hair silky smooth. Anyone sending a cursory glance my way would think I was ready for this meeting with the man who will reign over me in the coming weeks.
But I’m not.
“Stop your fidgeting, my sweet girl.” Liam gently scolds me from his chair.
Only then do I realize the rhythmic bounce of my foot, one crossed over the other. I cease the nervous movement just as Selma appears in the archway.
“Chancellor, Mr. Bordeaux is here to see you.”
Liam nods. “Send him in.”
She steps out of view, and the man I remember from the dinner and medical exam takes her place. He’s taller than Sebastian, but a few inches shy of Liam’s six-foot frame. His expensive black suit, meticulously pressed, doesn’t have a wrinkle in sight. There’s an undeniable seriousness about him…and a coldness that makes me shiver.
His hazel eyes zero in on me. “My queen.”
I dip my head. “I’m unsure of how I should address you.”
“Mr. Bordeaux will do.” He waltzes into the sitting room and settles next to me on the lounge.
Liam hasn’t moved an inch. He’s as stoic as the man next to me.
“I assume the chancellor informed you of the reason behind this visit?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, Mr. Bordeaux,” he corrects, mouth sloping into a frown. “And I expect you on your knees when you greet me in the future.” He shoots Liam an irritated glance. “In fact, she should be in that position now.”
His words raise my hackles, and before I attempt to form a response, Liam cuts in.
“You don’t have that kind of authority in this house.”
“Soon enough, my queen.” Heath removes a ribbon of measuring tape from his pocket. “I need to take your measurements.” He gestures to the top of my head, and I remain still as he wraps the tape around my skull.
But I’m quaking on the inside and trying to hold it together. In a few days, Liam won’t be around to protect me from this man.
“Does my queen have any design requests?” he asks as he marks the measurements in a black portfolio.
“Your queen does not.” I can’t help it—the snarky edge sneaks into my tone before I can stop it, and I sense Liam’s sigh rather than hear it. The displeased pull of Heath’s dark brows sends dread through me, and I rush to temper my tone. “But thank you for giving me the option.”
He shuts the portfolio with a decisive snap. “Chancellor, I believe you’ve been lax in handling Miss Van Buren.”
Liam hasn’t moved from his position. Sitting to my right, chin in hand, he watches with hooded eyes that hide any hint of what he’s thinking. “I’ve handled her just fine.”
“Her attitude is unacceptable.”
“We have differing views on what’s acceptable.”
Heath stands with a scowl. “She needs a training session in the dungeon.”
“That won’t happen while she’s in my house.”
Heath swivels his attention between the chancellor and me, jaw rigid and cold, hazel eyes squinting with frustration. “That will be the first thing she receives when she comes to mine.” He strides out of the sitting room, and when the front door of the penthouse slams upon his exit, I startle.
Liam rises. “I can’t let your behavior slide.”
I bow my head in shame because he warned me. “I’m sorry.”
“Apologies won’t save you from the dungeon, and they won’t spare you now.” The sound of a belt buckle lifts my gaze. I’m stricken as I watch him slide the thick leather strap from his pant loops.
“Liam, please.”
“Take off your skirt.”
Blinking back tears, I stand and slide the waistband down my thighs. The light material pools around my feet and I step out of the puddle of chiffon.
“Climb up,” he says, waving at the chair he just vacated. He loops the belt in his fist. “You can hold on to the back for support.”
“Please,” I beg again as the tears spill.
“Do as I say!”
His thundering baritone destroys the last of my composure, and I bawl as I climb onto the chair. It’s not the threat of pain that bothers me the most.
It’s the betrayal storming through me, devastating my heart in its violent path.
I embrace the cushioned back as his steps carry him closer. Those purposeful footfalls stall behind me, and he sucks in a deep breath. I wait, muscles quivering as gooseflesh crawls down my naked backside.
He promised welts if I misbehaved again.
He said it’s a matter of consistency, so I know the first strike is coming.
He’s a man of his word.
More seconds slip by, and I hold my breath as the salt of his betrayal drips down my cheeks.
Still…the first strike doesn’t come.
“Goddamnit, Novalee.” Something thumps to the floor.
I’m frozen in my vulnerable position, scared to believe he changed his mind.
“Get down.” His voice is soft, defeated.
A sob of relief escapes me. I turn to face him on shaky limbs, cheeks bathed in tears as I wrap my arms around myself. “You couldn’t do it.”
“No.” He takes me by the chin. “The thought of hurting you sickens me.” His grip tightens, incongruent with his words. “Heath doesn’t suffer from the same affliction. His rules are rigid, Novalee. He’ll hurt you when you break them.”
“Why?” The question is little more than a hoarse whisper. I clear my throat. “Why would he want to hurt me?”
“It’s just who he is.” He lets go of me and takes a step back, putting three feet of space between us. “And he won’t budge. Once he’s set his mind on something, there’s no undoing it.” His regretful gaze darts in the direction of the chair at my back. “He won’t change his mind about the dungeon.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“You have to.” He’s shaking, composure in tatters as he drags a hand through his hair. “And once you do, I can’t protect you.”