Page 45 of House of Cards

Zoey means nothing to me.

I don’t give a fuck who gets to pop this Angel’s kink cherry.

But something about the way she threw me that quick, worried glance, like I was her last lifeline, makes my lungs feel like they’re shrinking. Fucking rookie mistake, letting herfear crawl under my skin like this. I press it down hard, suffocating the ugly feeling until it’s just one more dead thing inside me.

I’m better than this.

“Have you forgotten about your debt to me, kitten?” I wrap a chunk of Zoey’s wavy brown hair around my finger, using it to draw her head a little closer. “One session with Howler will go a long way to repaying it.”

Her hazel eyes are the widest I’ve seen them yet, but she still finds a tiny sliver of stubbornness to lash out with. She leans in until our mouths are almost touching. When she speaks, I can smell the cognac on her breath. I fight the urge to suck the taste off her tongue.

“Let me go, and I promise I won’t say anything to the cops,” she whispers. “All this sex slave bullshit will just be our little secret.”

I scoff, and she rears back like I slapped her. “Maybe I will pull your teeth before I saw you in half.” I draw a line across her stomach, feeling it flutter as she contracts from my touch.

She pushes my glasses up the bridge of my nose with more force than they need, especially since they didn’t need adjusting in the first place. “It’s hot in hell, m’lord. Better pack extra sunscreen.”

The gesture bothers me more than it should. It’s the first time she’s touched me without trying to inflict damage. Maybe that’s why I grab her throat and ram her against the wall. She pushes against me when I lean in, but she doesn’t have the strength to shove me off her.

“You’re going to go in there, and you’re going to let my client do whatever he wants to you.”

“And if I don’t?”

Her nails dig into my chest, but barely hard enough to leave a crease in my shirt. No fight. Just trembling fingers and fluttering lashes.

I bring my mouth to her ear. “You’ll annoy the shit out of him, and trust me, you don’t want that.”

“And if I fight?” she whispers, sounding flustered, desperate.

“You want to fight? Then fight. He’ll hate it, but, Christ, kitten—” I lick the side of her ear before I realize what I’m doing, before I can even think of stopping myself. “—I’ll fucking love you for it.”

She lets out a tiny, broken sound deep in her throat, one I can feel through my grip, and then grabs my hand and rips my fingers away. Her face is flushed, eyes bright and shining with something I would have mistaken for panic…if she hadn’t pulled her lip between her teeth.

We’ve only just met, but I know Zoey better than she thinks.

She’s just like all the other women down here.

A plaything made for breaking.

They all hate it, until they love it.

Zoey

“Seriously?” I don’t think my eyes can go any wider.

“Seriously.” Smith lifts the velvet hanger holding a leather nightie with enough straps on it to moor the Titanic. Their buckles clink merrily when he twitches the handle, his dark eyes glued to me as if to gauge my response. I know I shouldn’t give him the satisfaction, but I can’t help my lip curling into a disgusted sneer.

Tied up hams have more coverage when they’re put in the oven to roast.

“There’s no… bottom bit,” I say, pointing vaguely in the direction where some panties or something should be.

“That’s a feature, not a flaw.”

I stifle a shudder. “I’m not wearing that.” I cross my arms over my chest, hoping I sound stronger than I feel.

My entire body is trembling inside, and it has nothing to do with the way he manhandled me in the corridor. Okay, maybe like ten percent has to do with his hand on my throat.

It’s not that bad when he’s not trying to choke me to death. Warm and strong. Almost reassuring, until he told me he’d love to see me fight off Howler.