Page 6 of Gilded

LUKA

S oren storms toward the stairs and heads down to the man cave he showed me earlier where he has an entire suite of nothing but entertainment.

When he’s gone, I turn toward Malia. She is staring at her hands clasped in her lap so tightly, her fingers are white. She’s blinking quickly, and every muscle in her body is tight. She’s trying and failing to control her breathing, and all that gorgeous skin is flushed a bright shade of pink.

Her beauty is stunning. The kind that makes men stupid. I had a hard time pulling my gaze away from her at the dinner table. Fought not to watch her put what little food she ate between those lips. Struggled to keep my gaze off perfect tits straining the fabric of that slutty dress.

Fucking her won’t be a hardship, though the whole v-card thing is off-putting.

I sit on the cushion beside her, angled in her direction, but I lean back and rest my arm along the cushions. “You need to calm down, or you’re going to hyperventilate.”

She shoots me a crystal-clear Fuck you . “ Why would you agree to something like this?”

“So Soren will recommend me for a partnership with your father. As the daughter of such a successful man, you must understand the strength of a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Or maybe not. That information seems to blindside her.

“This is utterly appalling.”

“I’m not intimidated by a little fire in my women, Malia, but think before you speak.”

“I’m not your—” She clenches her teeth and closes her eyes.

“Are you really a virgin? I don’t care if you’re not. I just need to know.”

She opens her eyes and stares me dead in the eye with unequivocal fury. “Yes.”

I tilt my head and prod her a little more. “You don’t look too good.”

“I’m fine,” she says, short and sharp. “I’ve been raised to be fine .”

I grin, slow and steady. “Just FYI, princess, you suck at lying.”

Her jaw ticks and fire rages in her eyes. A fire that makes her brown eyes glow amber.

“Am I going to have trouble with you?” I ask, adding weight to my voice.

She doesn’t answer. I guess that’s one way to keep the attitude in check.

“Answer me. Am I going to have trouble with you?”

“No.”

I soften my voice. “Good girl.”

I reach toward her face, and she flinches and leans away, but I take her chin between my fingers and turn her head to see the injury better. “You shouldn’t cover this with makeup. It won’t heal right.”

She smells too flowery for my taste. The scent is young and innocent, neither of which has ever been a turn-on for me. I angle her face the other direction and scan from forehead to chin. I don’t see the scars she should have from long-term abuse, but there’s no missing her current bruises.

I catch the butler’s attention.

The other man comes toward us. “Yes, sir?”

“Do you have a doctor on call?”

“Yes, sir. He stays on the island during the week. Do you need me to call him?”

I scan her injuries again, tilting her chin one way, then the other. “Yes. He needs to check these stitches.”

“Of course. I’ll call him now.”

“Send him to the pool house.” To Malia, I say, “How long has he been hitting you?”

“Two weeks.”

“Then I assume the event that precipitated the arguments was the engagement.”

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t need to. It’s safe to assume she wouldn’t want to marry a bastard her father’s age. Especially not a mean fucker like Zeiger.

“Does your father know?” I ask.

“He started it.”

That’s not the answer I expected. “When did that start?”

“Two weeks ago.”

I can imagine how volatile things could get between these three strong personalities.

“Let’s take this to the pool house.” I stand and hold out my hand, but instead of taking it, she looks up at me. Her hair is long, straight and deep, deep brown. She’s got long lashes, beautiful eyes, and a soft diamond-shaped face.

“I’m not a th-thing.” Her voice breaks. “And you’re a stranger to me. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

My brows shoot up. “Would you rather Soren teach you?”

She gets a sick look on her face and swallows hard. Tears shine in her eyes, but she controls them.

I crouch in front of her, grip her thigh with one hand, and slide my thumb across her full lower lip.

“Listen to me.” I cue my deadly serious, if-you-don’t-believe-me-try-it tone. “For all intents and purposes, your fiancé just handed you over to me, carte blanche. From now until your wedding day, you are mine . You will obey me, you will please me, and you will fucking enjoy it.”

Her air exits in a soft rush. She’s staring at me in blatant disbelief, and for the first time, she looks lost, not pissed.

I push to my feet and offer my hand again. “Come along, princess.”

She refuses to take my hand when she stands. Then she steps past me and crosses the room toward the patio and the pool. I’m grinning as I follow. This may be the most satisfying relationship I’ve ever had with a woman.

Her scent floats on the cool night air, and it may be a touch spicier than I first thought.

I can’t deny I’m going to enjoy licking that scent off her skin.

Eventually. Tonight is about setting up rules and expectations.

Dominance and control. Tonight, I’ll push her buttons and test her limits.

Then I’ll create the perfect plan to systematically break her down, draw her in, and enjoy the hell out of her while flaunting it in front of her father.

And in the end, I’ll kill him while she watches, the same way he killed my father while I watched.

Inside the pool house, she stands aside as I wander through the space. It’s big and luxuriously furnished, with a full kitchen and a separate bedroom. I would expect nothing less with the money Tarik pulls in.

“Sit, Malia.”

She moves to the sofa and sits on the edge of the cushion, the way she did in the living room, as if she’s ready to spring to her feet.

I search the bar, pull out a bottle of red wine, and return to the sofa, handing her a glass.

Before I can speak, there’s a knock on the door. “Come in.”

An older man enters, late sixties, short and stout. “Hello. I’m Doctor Collins.”

I gesture toward Malia, and he sits beside her on the sofa. “What happened?”

When she doesn’t answer, I say, “Soren hit her. Again.”

The doctor’s gaze veers toward me with clear surprise, though I’m not sure if he’s shocked by the truth or the fact that I’d be so bold about that truth.

He opens his bag and puts on gloves. “How is your vision? Anything unusual? Blurriness? Bright or dark spots?”

“No.”

He cleanses the area before probing the cut gently. “No loss of consciousness?”

“I wish.”

I smirk.

“What about pain?”

“Yes. Do you think I could have more medication?”

“Of course. I’ll leave it in your room.” Collins cleanses the area. “You didn’t pull any stitches. But you shouldn’t wear makeup over the injury. It will interfere with healing.”

Malia’s gaze darts to mine, then her eyes roll as she looks away.

The doctor places a small bandage on her cheek and gives Malia more supplies before leaving.

When the doctor is gone, I take a sip of wine and give her room to talk if she chooses, but she remains quiet and composed. The doctor’s visit seems to have allowed her to reset.

I move to the coffee table and sit facing her, leaning forward until my thigh brushes hers, then leave it there and rest my forearms on my knees while I repeatedly draw an arc over her knee with my index finger.

I take far too much pleasure in the scent of her fear.

In the way her pulse beats quickly in her neck.

Now that I’ve shown force, I soften to keep her off-balance. “I want you to know that our conversations stay between us. What is said here, stays here.”

“Now who’s lying?”

I drag my attention off the way her lips form words to the shards of amber among the rich brown of her eyes.

Eyes that could haunt a man. “You’re sassy.

You’re going to want to curb that tongue if you want to keep bruises to a minimum.

Soren will only know what he needs to know, which extends to what I teach you.

Nothing else. And let’s get another thing clear right now.

I’m not Soren, and I don’t hit women. If you do or say something I find unacceptable, I’ll tell you, like a civilized person. We’ll work it out between us.”

“Civilized? You think this is civilized ?”

“Your doubt is understandable, considering. But, again, I’m not Soren. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I am.”

“So, you say, yet here you are, doing what you’re doing.”

That cut hits its mark. Something I didn’t see coming.

I lean away and take off my jacket, settling it over the arm of the sofa, then stand and start to unbutton my vest, loving the way unease chases the attitude from her eyes.

“You’re quick, bold, intelligent,” I say. “I can see why Soren needs you broken. He’s not nearly man enough to handle you at full tilt.”

She dips her head, gaze hot on mine with a disdainful “ Broken? ”

I wander the living room as I finish unbuttoning my vest. I reposition the candlesticks on the mantel so they’re symmetrical.

“Princess, that attitude is going to cause you nothing but pain. If he hit you for not wearing the right bathing suit, how do you think he’ll respond when you disobey over something more consequential?”

I stop at the sliding glass doors and look out at the pool, glowing blue in the night. Then face her again and loosen my tie. “What would he have done if I hadn’t stopped him tonight? With your father out of the house and your staff silenced by fear, would he have stopped at hitting you just once?”

She swallows, her gaze lowering to my chest. “What are you doing?”

I don’t answer. “You need to accept that your life of autonomy is over. The days of being a spoiled daddy’s girl are gone.

You may live in luxury at Soren’s mansion in Tribeca, but there will be nothing enjoyable about your existence.

He’ll make sure of it. The high of being instrumental in your father’s empire will be gone the day you marry him. ”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because if you keep behaving the way you did tonight, he really will kill you before the wedding. You’ve known him most of your life. The real question is, why am I having to point it out?”

Her gaze drops to her hands. “I’ve never spent any significant amount of time around him. Avoiding him was fairly easy until the whole stupid engagement thing.”

I return to the sofa and sink into the corner, giving her space. Letting her breathe. Building some trust. Then, I’ll break it down. I need her to want me, trust me, and fear me all at the same time. Manipulation at its finest.

“I bet getting yanked off that throne hurt. A princess all your life only to become a commodity when you turn of age.”

Her jaw tightens.

“What do you do for your father aside from pulling in money?” I ask.

“Do you help find the victims? Connect with buyers to get their preferences, then transfer that information to the men in the field so they can pick the age and gender of slaves in demand? Or are you the one who gains their trust and lures them in?”

Her jaw loosens. Her gaze goes glassy with shock.

“Are your father and Soren more…delicate…with their language? If they hit you, I can’t imagine your feelings are at the top of their priority list.”

She shifts in her seat. Her gaze has gone flat, which tells me she’s gone inside herself, searching for a safe space to get through the ordeal she assumes is coming. “Can we get started with whatever you need to teach me, please?”

“We do things on my time, not yours. Get used to it.” I swirl the wine in my glass, letting my gaze scan her body, all of which is well showcased in that ridiculous dress.

“You’ve really never been with a man? Hard to believe with that body and those looks.

If you have, I’ll know, so you should just be honest now. ”

“I told you no.”

“Are you comfortable with your body?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you comfortable in your own skin? Confident naked? Have you explored yourself?”

She squeezes her eyes shut and turns her head. “Oh my God.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Her chin drops to her chest, and her temper heats again. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“Fine.” I finish the wine and stand to refill my glass. “Strip.”