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He doesn’t wait for my permission, but I don’t expect him to. I square my shoulders and hold out the chain, refusing to think of what he looked like the last time I saw him. I fight back a shiver as his fingertips brush my neck, pulling my hair aside. I still remember the day I got this–a gift following a brutal deposit.

A collar.

There’s a moment when his hands come around my throat and I’m assaulted by a flash memory of those fingers creating the bruises beneath my concealer.

Pace loops the choker around my neck and tugs it tighter than it should be, latching it with a hateful glint in his eye. “Now we just need a leash to attach to it.”

In the mirror, I watch him blankly. With how tall he is, his head rises so high over mine that I can perfectly make out the strained tendon in his neck as he looks down, eyes fixed to a spot behind my ear. He tilts his head, searching.

Blandly, I ask, “What are you looking for?”

His black eyes meet mine in the mirror. “Anything you may have missed,” he says, fingers combing my hair back. “Dried, flaky remnants…” The jab is just as obvious as his true intent.

He’s probably checking to make sure my tracker is undisturbed.

The leash.

I fix him with a cutting grin. “I clean up well.”

He holds my eye. “I know. I watched every second of it.” Dipping down, he whispers into my ear, “You’re looking into my camera right now.” I keep my expression carefully blank. It’s not like I didn’t know there was a camera in here already. At my lack of response, he drags his fingers down my arms. “I can’t wait to replay the video from Thursday night. You, standing here, all slimy and fucked out–a walking testament to our creampie. I’d send that to your Dukes too, only I think I’ll be greedy and keep it for myself.” His smirk is sharp with malevolence when I jolt away.

“I need to be downstairs,” I say, voice curt as I slip the hooks of two gold hoops in my ear. I don’t worry too much. It isn’t Pace’s day.

It’s Wicker’s.

“I’m escorting you down to the others.” He looks me up and down, lip curling back. “It’s tradition.”

“And what? You drew the short straw?” I reach for the last, and by far the biggest and shiniest, item of interest in the jewelry box.

The tiara.

I pick it up with both hands and place it on my head, watching Pace’s reflection in my periphery.

He’s staring at my tits. “I can’t wait to watch Wicker and Lex fuck all of that crap off you tonight.”

It’s Wicker’s night, but Lex’s will roll over at midnight.

Grabbing my clutch purse, I coldly wonder, “Did anyone ever tell you that the three of you are incestuous freaks?”

When I’m ready, he’s there, grabbing my hand and folding it around his forearm. “They’re hungry, my brothers,” he says, voice contemplative as he turns me to the door. “I think I’ll hold you down for them again.”

I let him guide me, allowing him to assume he has the power he so desperately needs to feel. Because I know the truth.

The Ashby brothers may be hungry, but I’m absolutely ravenous.

I seetheir backs before I see their faces.

Wicker and Lex.

They’re waiting for me in front of the ballroom, gazing at the ornate maple door as the orchestra plays a saccharine, lilting melody in the room behind it. The sound of my heels on the floor must tip them off, because Wicker twists to look, his blue eyes finding mine with eerie, horrifying accuracy.

It’s all I can do to not fold over and vomit again.

Pace clasps my hand around his forearm, tethering me, all but dragging my body to his brothers.

Lex is the next to look, his amber eyes not even deigning to meet mine. He looks at my tits first, then diverts his gaze to the tiara on my head, jaw tightening.

“They’re about to announce us,” Lex mutters, showing me his back.