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“You actually believed her, didn’t you?” he said, still chuckling.
I stiffened. “Well, she seemed genuine.”
“She was acting. Women are vastly superior to men when it comes to thespian talents. Especially Tatum. We’ve seen her in action before, haven’t we? Lying little bitch.”
“I suppose so.” I finally took a seat, facing him. Something was still bothering me. “She was crying and breaking down all over the place, but she wasn’t fighting me. Not like this clause says.”
“I’ll have to have a word with her about that, then. She knows the deal and she has to stick to it. Fight, not curl up and cry a bucket-load of crocodile tears.” He paused. “I’d say some of those tears might be real, though. When I approached her and made the deal with her, she had no idea she would be given to you specifically, and she probably isn’t too happy with how things have turned out. Many of the girls are like that at first. They don’t like their new masters, so they act out. That’s why they’re sent to the Finishing School first. It’s there to give them an idea of what their new life will be like.”
“I suppose.”
He sighed. “A lot of them think they’ll be treated like princesses, and they feel very let-down when they arrive and experience something far crueler and more isolating than what they imagined. But the treatment at the School is necessary to get them into the slave mindset.”
I grunted. “Right.”
“Why do you think there are so many guards there? We need to account for all the girls who change their minds and try to run away when it’s already too late,” he said with an annoyed sniff. “If Tatum is upset at how she is being treated or who she’s been given to, then that’s her problem. Her fault for making assumptions. She was well-informed about what she was getting into, and she should know not to expect any special treatment.”
I stared down at Tatum’s signature on the back of the contract again. It was right there, delicate little letters in spidery handwriting.
“She looked genuinely scared when we took her at the ceremony,” I muttered. Some fractious part of me was still unconvinced.
My father let out an exasperated sigh. “Again, she was acting. We set up that whole show purely for your benefit, Elias. I knew you wouldn’t be happy if she arrived on her own, totally willing. No, we had to make it dramatic, make it seem like she was terrified and had no idea what was happening. And it worked, didn’t it?”
I nodded slowly. My cock had never been so hard than when I saw Tatum running off the stage that night, fear marring those pretty features as she tried to escape the men charging at her. “Yeah. I liked it.”
“Good. By the time her training is complete, she’ll be prepared for the Lodge and her behavior should improve dramatically.” Dad pursed his lips for a second. “But I’ll go and talk to her about her recent conduct anyway.”
I waved a hand. “No, don’t do that. I’ll talk to her. She’s mine now, and she needs to know I won’t tolerate any more hysterical lies. She can fight me all she wants, be as insubordinate as she wants… that’s fine. As you said, I somewhat like that. But I don’t like lies.”
“Fair enough.” My father nodded. “I suppose she’s spewed enough bullshit in the past, hasn’t she?”
“No shit.”
My face felt hot with humiliation. I couldn’t believe I let fucking Tatum Marris trick me. Despite what she’d done in the past, I still fell hook, line and sinker for her black lies. All because of those pretty blue eyes staring up at me, weakening me, suddenly making me feel things I’d never felt before. Compassion. Tenderness. Pity.
My hands curled into fists by my side.
I wouldn’t let it happen again.