Page 47 of Cain

“Good girl.”

A soft giggle escapes my lips. I don’t know why. I should be mad; I should be afraid—terrified, to be fair—but now I’m not.

The whole day has passed,and I still can’t shake the memory of his gesture. As I sit on my bed, the scent of the perfume hits me again. It stirs something inside, making me want to see him. I get up and walk into the giant closet, scanning the dresses.

My eyes land on a pastel pink A-line minidress with a fitted bodice and a flared, flowy skirt. I feel my heart skipping a beat.That will look good on me.

Before I can even think, I slip into the dress, straighten my hair, and apply light, natural makeup with pink, almost nude lipstick. And last but not least? I spray the perfume he chose.

I step out of my room and head toward the living room, where I expect he’ll be soon. It’s probably late afternoon by now. I enter, and the sight strikes me. The shutters are open, revealing the vast garden that stretchesout beyond the house. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over everything.

The room seems … different. It looks bright and warm. He’s standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the view.

He’s dressed as usual—formally, in black, well-fitted slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

I don’t speak; I remain silent, immersed in the breathtaking view that stretches before me.Himand the stunning scenery this mansion offers.

He turns around, oblivious to my presence, hands tucked into his pants pockets, and his dark green eyes land on me.

There is a mild surprise in his eyes. Is that a good thing? And why do I care if it is? Why do I care whether he’ll like how I look or not?

A soft grin adorns his well-shaped lips, making his gentle cheek dimples appear.

“This look suits you more, little rose.”

“What look?”

He walks closer, stopping right in front of me, his intense eyes roaming my face. The cut on his forearm doesn’t seem as severe as I thought it was. It looks almost identical to the one I also acquired. Slowly, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and bites his lower lip. My heart pounds under his gentle touch, my breathing turning unsteady.

A satisfied smirk curls his mouth as his thumb strokes my lower lip.

“Good girl,” he growls approvingly.

My eyes lower bashfully, letting his touch affect me more than I should. How can he change my emotions about him so effortlessly?

“Thank you,” I say coyly, my eyes returning to his. “You didn’t have to.”

He tilts his head, his smirk deepening as his thumb lingers on my lip. “Oh, but I did,” he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. “I want you to look beautiful for me. Just for me.” His fingers trail down my jaw, sending a shiver through me. “And judging by the way you’re blushing, I’d say you like that more than you’re willing to admit.”

A lump forms in my throat, making it hard for me to swallow. My pulse quickens again, betraying me.

His fingers slide slowly down my neck, causing electrifying jolts throughout my body. He grips my chin, forcing my gaze to stay on him. “You’re learning,” he taunts. “Obedience suits you.”

My breath catches. I should recoil. Resist … but I don’t. Instead, I melt under his touch. God, shame burns beneath my skin. Shame that my body betrays me once again. Shame that I give in to his touch.

He hums low, almost like a growl, his fingers wrapping gently around my throat. “See?” he murmurs. “Admit it, little rose. You belong to me.”

“Boss.” Landon’s gruff voice sounds, making me gasp in surprise. Surprise, fear and shame.

Cain lets out a silent groan of disappointment. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” he hisses indignantly, without taking his eyes off me.

“It’s urgent.”

“What’s more urgent than this?” He looks at Landon with a piercing gaze over my head, his tone rising.

“It’s about Torres.”

Cain’s jaw flexes and his fingers around my throat loosen. Who’s Torres?