The Pawn (Endgame 1)

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he says, his breath gentle against my forehead. “I bought you. You’re mine. You go where I say, when I say. And you do whatever the fuck I tell you to do.”

I manage not to flinch. A million dollars.

Meeting his gaze, I let him see the core of strength inside me, however thin, however deep. He can touch my body, but he can’t touch that. I told him as much upstairs. “Got it.”

“Yes, sir,” he says.

My stomach clenches in instinctive refusal. I press my lips together, facing him with mutiny in my expression. Would it be so bad? he asked me. Giving up control for a month? Letting someone else guide you? Letting someone teach you? Reluctantly I mutter, “Yes, sir.”

The corner of his lips turns up. “Don’t fight me, little virgin. I’ll enjoy it too much.”

That’s probably true. I lift my chin, determined to face whatever he throws at me. “What should I do?” I ask, challenging. “Should I get on my back? Or on my hands and knees?”

“Still trying to control things,” he muses.

I look away. “No, I’m trying to give you what you paid for.”

“That might have worked with one of those assholes in there.”

He reaches up to toy with a strand of my hair, almost tender. Then thick fingers push through the dark blonde locks. His fist clenches. I make a keening sound as he yanks my head back, his golden gaze looking down at me. My lips are parted in shock and pain—and something too dark to name.

He studies my face, almost in reverence. “Here’s the thing about owning a virgin. For as long as I don’t fuck you, I still own one.”

My breath catches. Does that mean he’s giving me a reprieve? Or does he have darker things in mind for me? He doesn’t have to fuck me to hurt me. He doesn’t have to take my virginity to get revenge.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

A soft breath of amusement. “Did Candy tell you all about her kinky games?”

I feel my eyes widen. She likes kinky games? I remember her tucked into Ivan’s lap like a child, legs pulled up underneath her, hands folded almost in prayer. “She told me not to give in.”

His smile spreads, slow and unbearably sexy. A man like him has no right to look that handsome. He should look like his insides: dark and cruel. “Good,” he says simply. “It will be more fun.”

She told me other things, that by opposing him I would make him desperate for more. I don’t share that with Gabriel. He wouldn’t be afraid. He’d like the challenge of it.

He pushes back from me, his lids lowered. “We’re leaving.”

My hands tighten on his jacket. Every time I squeeze the fabric, a faint burst of masculine spice fills the air. “I have to go home, at least. I’m not trying to control you, but my dad—”

“He’s taken care of.”

I suck in a breath because that sounds more like a threat than reassurance. “What does that mean?”

“A nurse is already with him. Tomorrow morning she’ll be replaced with the day nurse.”

How did he manage that so quickly? Except that’s what money can do. It was only a year ago that I had money, my father’s money, but I’ve almost forgotten how powerful it can be.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Christ.” He cups his hand around my neck, his fingers tightening enough to make me gasp. “Do you know what I would do to a man who questioned my word?”

Don’t give in. I meet his gaze even though my eyes are watering, my lungs are burning. “Then do it,” I whisper. “If you don’t want to fuck me, then fucking do it.”

He looks at me like I’m some kind of otherworldy species. Then he grins, for a fleeting second seeming unaccountably younger. His hand falls away, and I blow out a breath. “You’ll have to trust me, little virgin. If I wanted your father dead, he would be.”

A shiver runs through me. The words shouldn’t be reassuring, but somehow they are. For Gabriel Miller the most important thing is his word, which is why my father’s cheating had to be punished. Which means that I can trust him…up to a point.

He won’t lie to me, but he would honestly hurt me.

A buzz comes from the table with the drinks, and he crosses the room to his phone. A quick glance at the screen. “My car is outside.”

I look down at my bare legs. The jacket is large enough to cross over my front, but one wrong step, one gust of wind, and they’ll see everything. “But…”

His expression turns dark. He reaches for me, and I flinch. Eyes of burnished gold narrow. When he grasps me behind my neck, I can’t help the low sound of animal fear that escapes me. With only that touch on my body, he leads me out of the room and into the hallway. Distantly I hear the sound of raucous laughter, of feminine moans. Did Damon bring out more women for them, nonvirgin consolation prizes?