He frowned, as though he didn’t quite understand my question. “You’re still Carmen Ronaldo. And I didn’t say that staying was a choice. We’re discussing what will happen tonight. You are mine, and you’re not going anywhere. Nothing will change that.”
My heart squeezed, a strange sensation that I couldn’t quite puzzle out. I should be enraged by his easy dismissal of my autonomy.
But he was allowing me to choose whether or not I would participate in this degrading farce tonight. He said I was still Carmen Ronaldo.
Not his pet, not sub-human.
Stefano had insisted all along that he wanted me just as I was; he wanted to possess all of me. I’d thought that meant he planned to deprive me of my identity, to take everything that I was and leave me with nothing.
Maybe I didn’t actually have to surrender anything at all if I chose to give myself to Stefano in the way he wanted. I could be his, but I could still be myself.
We could negotiate the finer points of our power dynamic over time, but we would have to survive in order to argue over it. Stefano was right; my participation in tonight’s shameful demonstration was the best way to ensure our survival.
My pride would take a beating, but I’d endured far worse than a bruised ego.
I straightened my spine, meeting his grim stare. “Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll do it. But you’ll owe me.”
His brows lifted. “What price did you have in mind?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” I allowed the challenge of my indecision to hang in the air between us, testing him. He didn’t have to agree to an unknown debt in my favor. He didn’t have to do anything that he didn’t want to do.
One corner of his lips tugged in an indulgent smile. “All right, my clever pet. I accept your terms.”
I offered him an answering smile, a genuine expression of pleasure. Stefano truly did enjoy me for who I was. He liked our banter, our push and pull. If I stayed with him, he wouldn’t rule over me like a tyrant, no matter how domineering he was. Being with him might actually be fun.
“Now that I have you in a good mood, there’s one more thing,” he announced.
He finally released my wrists from his restraining grip and crossed the bedroom to retrieve something from the closet. When he returned to me, he held what appeared to be a black velvet jewelry box, but it was nearly the size of a book.
“Remember that you agreed not to argue,” he reminded me.
“I don’t think I want whatever is in that box.” My bravado was ruined by the hitch in my voice.
“I know you don’t, kitten. Try to think of them as something protective, not demeaning.”
He pulled back the lid, revealing two gold cuffs and what could only be described as a matching collar. The obscenely large, pear-shaped diamond dangling from the center gave it the pretense of jewelry, but it more closely resembled an identifying tag. Marking me as Stefano’s property.
He set the box down on the bed and picked up the first cuff. I allowed him to grasp my numb fingers and direct my arm where he wanted it, so he could lock the shackle around my left wrist. He repeated the process with my right, and the definitive click of the delicate clasp catching made me flinch.
The cuffs had been designed to resemble thick gold bracelets, but they sat too snugly against my skin to be purely decorative. The intricate clasps made the cuffs appear seamless, but a little pressure on the correct points would release them. At least Stefano had selected an option that wasn’t actually locked in place.
The knowledge that I could remove the cuffs if I wanted to helped calm my nerves slightly. Although I wouldn’t risk our survival by trying to take them off in public, knowing that I had the power to do so soothed the churning in my stomach.
This is my choice, I told myself. I’m choosing to do this.
Stefano wasn’t forcing me into chains. He wasn’t trying to break me.
He picked up the collar and stepped behind me, sweeping my hair over one shoulder to expose my nape.
“I like this,” he murmured, tracing the outline of the thistle tattoo that I had inked onto the back of my neck to cover Miguel’s mark. “You’ll have to tell me why you chose it.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on my breathing. “Just put it on, please,” I managed to whisper, desperate for him to stop studying the tattoo. I couldn’t bear for him to realize what it concealed, for him to know how low Miguel had brought me.
Enduring tonight’s humiliation would be nothing compared to that misery.
“All right, kitten,” he murmured, soothing.
The cool metal kissed my skin, the band encircling my throat. When he closed the clasp at my nape, the collar rested against my neck, pushing directly on the brand.