Page 21

EMMA

I hesitate in front of the door.

Once I cross the threshold, there's no going back. Whatever happens inside the room will forever change my relationship with Mr. Sinclair.

Don't think too much about it. I hear Ophelia's voice in my head.

"Here goes nothing," I whisper to myself.

I knock on the door.

"Come in." His voice floats through the room.

It's a voice I'd recognize anywhere. The same voice has been wrapping around me like a blanket every night since I met him. It plays in my head like a dark lullaby until I fall asleep.

I push the door open.

The room is lit only by candlelight. He's sitting in an armchair by the window, untouched by the warm light. He thrives in the shadows and moonlight. A true creature of the night.

My mind tells me to bolt.

My heart tells me to stay.

I let the coat fall to the ground. His eyes peruse my body, but they remain indifferent. If he finds me attractive, he doesn't show it.

"Close the door," he orders.

I do as he says. The second the door closes behind me, it gets harder to breathe.

This intimidating man has sucked all the oxygen from the room, leaving none for me.

"Come closer," he says. "I want to get a better look at you."

His deep voice ignites something in my core.

I'm turned on right now, but my skin prickles with an unfamiliar emotion. I realize that it's jealousy. He doesn't know who I am. To him, I'm just a stranger he's paying for.

I have no right to feel this way about him, but I feel it all anyway.

"What are you waiting for?" he asks. Something flashes in his eyes—a dominant nature that I've only caught glimpses of.

I take a step toward him.

"No," he says. "Crawl."

The second the word leaves his mouth, I drop to my knees. I don't question his order. It feels so natural to do whatever he tells me to.

I move toward him on my hands and knees.

The carpet is soft against my bare skin as I crawl. It's supposed to be humiliating, but I don't think I've ever been more turned on.

"They say that Elysium is supposed to cater to nearly every fantasy a man could have," he says, watching me. "And for the first time, I'm inclined to agree. Mrs. Hendricks has really outdone herself. You look exactly how I wanted you to."

A thrill runs through me.

I know it's not a coincidence that he asked for a brunette with the same height and build as me.

Mr. Sinclair wants me.

The very thought of that is a rush of power unlike anything I felt before. It's a female satisfaction that churns inside me like a dormant volcano coming to life again.

"And you're all mine to do with as I please, aren't you?" he says.

I stop when I reach his feet.

"Kneel," he says, watching me with those indifferent eyes as I sit on my haunches.

The window behind him is open. A gust of wind enters the room, making goosebumps rise on my skin. My nipples pebble even though the rest of me is burning from his gaze.

I like Mr. Sinclair looking at me.

It's the sweetest high.

"My mind must be playing tricks on me," he says. "You even smell like her."

I wasn't aware that I had a scent. I don't have a signature perfume I wear daily, so it must be something in my soap or shampoo.

"Cupcakes," he says. "She smells like cupcakes."

With a sudden movement, he leans forward. Our faces are now inches apart. I forget how to breathe.

"I keep smelling her everywhere lately," he says. "She haunts me no matter where I go. Why do you think that is?"

I blink at him, hoping he doesn't recognize me. Hoping he can't hear the racing of my heart.

"Take your mask off," he orders.

I freeze. And then I shake my head.

He reaches for me then. His large hand moves toward the side of my face. I don't move a muscle.

Technically, this is what he's paying for. I'm his to do with as he pleases.

Time seems to freeze.

Our eyes lock.

His hand closes into a fist, never touching my skin.

"I can't do it," he whispers, almost to himself.

There's momentary desolation and anguish in his eyes. It tugs at my heartstrings.

I have the urge to tell him that he's not alone in this world. I want to tell him that he's not the only one suffering. More than anything, I want to tell him that things don't have to stay the same way forever.

"Are you okay?" I whisper.

His eyes snap into focus. His gaze narrows on my face.

For a second, I wonder if he recognized my voice. I only whispered the three words, buthe's looking at me like he can see past the mask on my face.

"We're done here," he says, standing briskly.

From my kneeled position, he looks like a Greek god come to life. He's aman who exudes power, and the sight of him alone makes my clit throb with need.

He looks at me like he wants to stay, but I know he's not going to.

It doesn't stop me from wishing, though.

I want to take any scrap of affection he's willing to throw at me. I want him to use my body for his sexual gratification. I want his hands on me, touching me without restraint.

"You'll be paid in full for the night, but I no longer require your services," he says.

Without another glance back at me, he's gone.

As soon as the door closes behind him, I feel the cold. He took all the warmth with him when he left.

I take a deep breath. The air still smells like him—like musk and mahogany.

I stare out of the open window.

Constellations of stars dot the night sky.I wonder what these stars have in store for me.

I wonder if there's a reason I crossed paths with someone like Klaus Sinclair.