Page 47 of Pandora's Pleasure

Dropping to my knees, I recalled the advice I’d been given back at the St. Regis, to peer up at him with adoration, which was easy because his looks were so striking—even now, after a long evening, with his hair sensually disheveled and that smoldering burn in his eyes boring through me knowingly.

With me on my knees, lips parted and eyes wide and pleading for his approval, I saw an internal switch seemed to flip within him. His stance became aggressive and dominant as he glared down at me with a fiery certainty. He knew what he was looking at—a woman who was willing to do anything to accomplish the impossible…make him fall in love with her.

But, oh, God,this was going to hurt. I might even stain his high-thread count with the blood of my innocence.

“Get up,” he snapped.

I obeyed, pushing to my feet.

“This is what will happen, Pandora. You are going to get dressed and walk back the way we came, down the hallway to the front door. My driver will take you home.”

I don’t want to leave.

Not after the suffering I’d endured all these months. Not when his touch felt like it turned a key within me—awakening my sexuality.

“I’m making this easy on you,” he said with a rare kindness in his tone. “I’ll call you, okay?”

That flash of decency he was displaying might be a once in a lifetime event, a compassionate effort to help me avoid a shameful mistake.

Don’t fall for his charm.

I turned my face away to hide my flushed cheeks.

“Ms. Bardot, if you choose to stay you will suffer the consequences of that decision.”

“I know,” I said, my voice trembling. “I…I want to.”

Just breathe, that’s all that’s required.

“Do you want to risk it all? Turn right instead of left. Head through the red door and down the set of stairs. Walk to the end of the corridor…” He raised an eyebrow.

Swallowing my nervousness, I ran through my options. Leave and he may never speak to me again—although his promise to call made that decision easier. But the reason I came here would be lost. Stay and I would have to face the dire threat of what he would do to me becoming my reality. Madeline had revealed that much at least.

“This is what concerns me,” he said darkly. “You’re wearing a clavis but have no idea of its origin.” He tucked his tongue into his cheek as though finding this fact amusing. “Are you really this brave?”

I tried to answer but no words would come.

He smirked. “Are you willing to obey the directive of the clavis?”

I gathered my dress off the floor, along with my underwear, unable to look him in the eye. Grabbing my purse off the barstool, I scooped up my high heels as I went, clutching everything to my chest as I hurried naked into the hallway, heading fast for the exit.

I pulled my gown on at the end of the hallway, but I paused before opening the front door.

There was a different kind of suffering my body craved, a deep yearning buried within me.

It made me turn around to stare in the opposite direction—at the long shadows falling over a dark red door.

She’d turned left instead of right, and then she’d changed her mind.

Glancing at my Rolex, I timed how long it would take before Pandora reached my dungeon. She’d be looking around at the instruments of pain positioned strategically around the room, ready to be used on the willing.

That should be enough to have her running for the car. If this glimpse into my psyche would accomplish that, then so be it.

I should be down there now, watching her reaction so my diabolical side could snag a few minutes of entertainment before she made her escape.

The thought of Pandora in that room was a revenge play for all the crap I’d taken from her these last few months. Hating her had become my favorite sport. Our arguments were so damn arousing it was enough to make me believe that, subconsciously at least, I liked being around her.

I had to admit that the scent of a woman within these walls lifted the loneliness, but it was only temporary. She’d be gone soon. Pushing that aside, I reasoned I was used to the quiet.