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Including Kyra.
I think.
Her parents have groomed her to take a man who will further their business and, for all I know, taking that from her could be the worst thing I do. Psychological damage is not to be disregarded.
She needs your dominance and to be owned. Even if she doesn’t understand it yet.
I hang on to Parker’s words.
But her silence is deafening and not being in control is not something I am comfortable with.
“Remember the code.” Parker says, and together we say, “Strength in silence: revenge is a patient man’s game. We act in shadows, speak only truth, and never reveal our hand too soon.”
“Thank you.” I hold his stare for a long moment, then he nods, walks to the elevator, and disappears.
––––––––
I RIP MY bath towel off and hang it on the rail, then stride into my bedroom. I’m wound up like a caged tiger.
I glare at my phone for the millionth time.
What if she doesn’t have her phone? What if her father read the message and is keeping her from me?
“Fuck this.” I cross the room and dial her number.
It rings.
And rings.
And...
“Hello,” her soft voice answers and my eyes press closed.
“Kyra,” I rasp roughly.
Neither of us say anything for a long moment.
“Tell me you’re okay,” I demand.
“Yes.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes. I was almost asleep,” she replies, and I imagine her lying in bed curled up.
My mind flicks back to the headlines online about how Ms. Fox had returned home and would be walking down the aisle to marry Pierce Sterling as planned. The Fox PR team had concocted some cold feet story, coupled with her mental healthcondition, and Kyra apologized to law enforcement for wasting their time.
Clearly, her father had made a sizable donation to the city.
It was all complete bullshit.
“I want you to come home.” I rasp.
“It’s not my home. It was my prison,” she whispers.
“You belong here with me.” I hiss.
“I can’t.” I hear her whimper, and it infuriates me. I know she’s submissive, but for fuck's sake, how can she let them force her into marrying the asshole?