Page 27 of Pandora's Pleasure

“We don’t need a non-disclosure agreement. You and me, we are quite capable of respecting each other’s privacy.”

I gave a subtle nod of agreement.

“You want me to help fix your relationship with Damien, but your failure was inevitable. If that makes you feel any better.”

I set the glass of Coke on her desk and stood, my chair squealing on the hardwood floor as I pushed up. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

“It’s been a delight.”

I frowned. “You’re making fun of me.”

“You’re a toy. Power’s plaything. Manufactured in a private school abroad and forged for public life.”

I wanted to walk away, hating the fact she had the upper hand by knowing all about my background. I wasn’t in a position to defend myself.

She stared at me thoughtfully. “Or, Ms. Bardot, you could be more…”

My future was tenuous, but she wouldn’t know that.

Soon, like the rest of the world, she would know about my father’s scandal—unless I found a way to reach Damien and convince him to make it go away.

Damien blocking my texts felt like the ultimate ghosting. A week had gone by and I’d not heard a word from him, which was why I’d believed visiting Rhodes for advice had been a good idea.

Now, not so much.

Heading for the door, I cursed myself for going to all this trouble. Rhodes didn’t care about me. I’d been a brief amusement between lectures.

She leaned forward over the desk, her cleavage showing thanks to her low-cut red blouse. “Are you good with secrets?”

I turned around. “Yes.”

“How far are you willing to go?”

“In what respect?”

“Damien has…unusual desires. Surely you’ve noticed by now?”

I assumed Madeline was talking about the fact he had a thing for bondage.

She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a velvet box, placing it on top of the desk with reverence. “You must never tell him where you got it. Promise?”

The box was too big for an engagement ring and too small for a bracelet or a choker. My imagination went into overdrive.

I walked over to her desk and picked up the box, holding it gingerly in my palm.

“What is it?”

“A gift. Or a curse, depending on how you look at it. Because it’s not meant for girls like you.”

I wondered if I should be insulted.

“Or…perhaps you’re different.” She smiled.

I suddenly had a memory of what the silken ties had felt like—the sensations of pleasure and pain, of writhing to escape and yet never wanting to.

“Pandora, the woman who wears this will get anything she wants.”

I smirked. “Are these nuclear codes?”