Turning my gaze away from her, I turned toward her maid.
"Sit," I ordered.
Satisfaction curled quietly in my chest as I watched the shift in their expressions—especially the maid's. She had been calm before. Composed. That composure cracked the moment my words landed.
Good.
But I was already burning precious time. With a small gesture, I signaled to my guard. He stepped forward immediately, forcing the maid into the chair and holding her down as she struggled. I bent at her feet without hesitation, reaching for the straps of her shoes.
I didn't mind getting my hands dirty. In fact, I rather enjoyed it.
Slowly, almost delicately, I slid the shoe off her foot. Her breathing quickened, sharp and uneven. My fingers brushed the smallest toe, and I paused there for a brief moment—as if considering it.
Then I snapped it off. The scream that tore from her throat filled the room, raw and piercing. It was expected. The guard tightened his grip on her shoulders as she thrashed, but I remained calm. Methodical.
Carefully, I wrapped the bandage around her foot, firm but controlled. Blood seeped through at first, bright and warm against the cloth, but I pressed the layers tighter until it slowed.
A nurse would be sent later.
Still, I took my time. Kneeling there, bent before her like some attentive physician, I secured the bandage until not even a hint of red could be seen.
Her sobs turned softer then, shaking through her chest as she swallowed the drug the guard forced between her lips—something to dull the pain, something to keep her from fainting from blood loss.
Satisfied, I wiped my hands slowly with a cloth and dropped the pliers back into the metal box with a dull clink.
When I turned around, Carmen hadn't moved. She sat there utterly still. Too still, like a statue carved from marble.
Quietly, I gestured for the guard to leave and take the maid with him. He obeyed without hesitation, lifting the trembling woman into his arms as she cried softly, tears streaking down her face.
The door closed behind them with a soft click. Silence filled the room. Only then did I speak.
I leaned back against the table, rolling my sleeves down before folding them again neatly, my gaze settling on Carmen.
"I thought you were going to start weeping," I said lightly. "I'm sorely disappointed."
She didn't smile. Didn't even blink.
"Vera did nothing to deserve a missing toe," she said.
Her voice was controlled, but the anger beneath it was unmistakable. Her back was rigidly straight as her fingers twisted together in her lap, the pressure so tight I knew it had to hurt.
The blankness in her eyes had vanished. Now there was fire.
.
"Yes," I replied easily, "but you did." A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"We both know that if I let you go scot-free, you'll do it again. Hell—" I chuckled softly, "—I'm sure you still will."
And the truth was, part of me hoped she would.
Did a part of me want to break her?
Yes. Thoroughly.
Until she was nothing more than a beautiful pet who existed to obey my every command.
But another part of me—one I hadn't anticipated—found far greater pleasure in the fierce defiance blazing in her eyes.
She noticed my stare and she hated it.
Abruptly, she stood from the chair she had fallen into earlier.
"Can I leave now?" she asked.
I sighed instead.
It was already generous enough that I allowed her more freedom than she deserved. Letting her walk away so easily felt… unsatisfying.
I pushed away from the table and closed the distance between us until barely a foot separated us.
Up close, the red dress I had chosen for her looked even better than I remembered. The fabric clung to her waist before falling softly against her hips, and the faint scent of something floral—jasmine, perhaps—rose from her skin.
Without thinking, I leaned slightly toward her neck.
She leaned away immediately, a deep frown pulling at her lips. That only made the urge stronger. I wanted to run my fingers through her dark hair. Feel the weight of it slide between them.
Instead, I met her gaze.
"What if I told you," I said slowly, "that I'll cut your debt in half if you slept with me?"
Her eyes widened. First shock then confusion.
She stared at me as if trying to determine whether she had heard me correctly. Out of sheer generosity, I repeated myself.
"You would only have to pay back five hundred million," I continued. "Well… more like four hundred and ninety-nine."
I tilted my head slightly.
"The extra one million is for wearing the dress."
Her lips parted.
"Are you asking me to sleep beside you on the—"
I shook my head immediately. The last thing I wanted was confusion.
"I mean sex," I clarified calmly. "We're adults. Surely you know what that is."
This time she interrupted me. She stepped back sharply, shaking her head like the idea itself was unbearable.
Unacceptable.
I didn't like that reaction.
"You are family!" she gritted out. "You shouldn't even be attracted to me."
Her voice trembled slightly as she stared at me, waiting. Waiting for me to deny it.
But why would I lie?
"But I am," I said simply. "And we are not related. Make no mistake about that."
I turned away then, returning to lean against the table again, giving her the space she seemed to need.
I was a patient man and had only brought it up to make her aware of the possibility.
The tension between us hummed in the air. She looked more guarded now. More cautious.
I found that immensely pleasing.
"I can't sleep with you," she said finally, lifting her chin with stubborn resolve. "You know that."
Of course I did. Carmen was a devout Catholic. There were lines she wouldn't cross. Not while my mother was her stepmother.
I hummed thoughtfully.
"What about a kiss then?"
Her eyes widened again.
"…you would forgive half my debt for a kiss?" she asked.
Hope flickered in her eyes. I crushed it immediately.
"A full make-out session," I corrected lazily, "and half will be forgiven."
Silence stretched between us. Seconds slowly turned into minutes. The tension grew thicker, heavier.
"I… I can't," she whispered.
I nodded slowly, my gaze drifting down the length of her neck, to the soft curve of her torso beneath the red fabric. I wondered idly how she would feel beneath my hands. The weight of her breasts against my chest. The warmth of her body—
"You may leave," I said suddenly, cutting the thought short with a quiet chuckle. "We have nothing more to discuss."
She didn't hesitate.
The moment the words left my mouth, she turned and hurried toward the door, almost running—as if staying another second might trap her there.
The door shut behind her with a hurried thud. For a long moment, I simply stood there.
We had only lived in the same house for three years. Yet seeing her again after so long had stirred a desire I hadn't even realized existed. Especially when I saw her being sold on that stage.
A possessiveness I hadn't known I possessed tightened quietly in my chest.
You're Mine.