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She fought. On cue. Just enough to make it look good. Her eyes full of venom, her nails scratching down my chest. I gripped her wrists, pinned her to the bed like every other bastard before me. Inside, I wanted to vomit.
But outside?
I was Devon Walsh.
Unmoved. Unbothered.
I thrust against her slowly.
And felt her gasp like she’d been holding her breath for years.
Her body tightened around me—hot, wet, alive. She moaned, quick and breathless, before she caught herself and turned her face away, like she was ashamed of her own reaction.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I fucked her like Kadri wanted me to. But it was all fake. I thrust into her skin like I was thrusting into her. But my mind was somewhere else entirely.
On the plan. The cameras. The fact that the girl beneath me deserved so much better than a damn performance.
She came first.
I felt it. The way she trembled. The way her walls clenched. The way her breath caught in her throat like a secret.
And then I followed. Silent. Controlled. Numb.
Afterward, I rolled off her and sat at the edge of the bed, adjusting my tie with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.
She clutched the torn dress to her chest, her eyes glassy with shame. I wanted to speak. But I had nothing to say. So I left the room without looking back. Because if I did—if I saw what I just did through her eyes—I don’t know if I’d be able to come back from it.
I told myself I saved her life that night. But as I closed the door behind me, I wondered if I’d just destroyed something inside her to do it.
Kadri toldme he was leaving for three days—business abroad. And he wanted me to “guard his asset” in his absence.
“Feel free to enjoy her,” he said with a smirk. “As you can see, she’s broken in.”
I smiled like the monster I was pretending to be.
And for three nights, I went to Maxine’s room. Always at the same time. Always the same warning conveyed in my eyes.
She understood. Somehow, she understood. She was strong like that.
The cameras were definitely on. I could feel the eyes on me, even if I couldn’t see them. Hidden in the corners. Wired into the walls. Kadri was watching. Waiting to see if I’d pass his test.
If I’d use the girl like he told me to.
Maxine stood there like a porcelain figurine someone had already cracked down the middle. Her skin was pale, stretched thin over bones that were far too delicate. Her collarbone looked like it could cut glass. And when I reached for her—slow, like I was taming a feral creature—I felt her flinch.
I felt the way her breath hitched when my fingers brushed her shoulder. Not because she was scared of me, but because she’d been trained to expect the worst.
My hand slid down the line of her arm. Her skin was soft, impossibly soft, and goosebumps followed my fingertips like a shadow, rising in little waves across her flesh.
She was pretending. Pretending not to want it, acting like she was disgusted. But she wasn’t a good actress—not with me. Her mask slipped every time our eyes met, and something in her gaze pleaded with me to be different.
To be better than the others. And I wanted to be. So badly. But I just couldn’t pull away from her.
Kadri’s voice echoed in my head. “Show me what you can do with her. Make her scream, Walsh. Show me you can break her.”
So I leaned closer.
My lips hovered near her ear. I whispered, “I’m sorry. It’s going to get rough. Just… close your eyes and pretend.”