Surprise Bidder

I’m well aware of the other people in the room watching me, making sure I do my job. I don’t mind them, though. I’m not doing this for them. I’m doing this for me.

I’m the one Leah betrayed, after all. I’m the one she made a fool of.

I spank her again, this one a bit harder than the last so she lets out a louder cry.

It’s good that there are other people in the room, though. Otherwise, I’m not sure if I could restrain myself, not with this anger swelling in my chest and clouding my head.

Even Nadine never tested the limits of my patience this much.

“Enough,” Elias commands.

I get off my knees. Leah remains on hers. I hear her gasping for air.

“Satisfied?” Elias asks Owen.

He steps forward. “Almost.”

He picks up the horsewhip lying on a table and hands it to me.

Elias nods. I grip the whip and swing it across Leah’s bare back with moderate force. She lets out a muffled wail. A red streak appears on her pale skin, dotted with beads of blood.

I hand Owen the whip and he nods. Elias, too, gives another nod.

“Let us hope this will be the end of your foolish rebellion, Leah,” Elias says to her.

He turns to me next, but says nothing. He just pats me on the shoulder and leaves. The guard tosses me the keys to Leah’s handcuffs and follows after him. Owen goes next after dropping the whip on the floor. Fiona leaves as well, closing the door behind her.

The punishment has been served.

I take off Leah’s gag. It falls to the floor. Afterwards, I grab her arm and pull her to a kneeling position. She sits back on her legs, avoiding my gaze and not saying a word as I free her wrists. She rubs them after the cuffs fall off, and then she turns her head to look at me. The plea in her eyes is gone. Instead, she glares.

“Happy now?” she asks, her voice dripping with resentment.

My temper, which has just begun to subside, spikes.

So she still isn’t remorseful, is she? I should have known spanking wouldn’t have any effect on her. Not on her spirit, anyway.

I grab her arm and pull her to her feet. My fist clenches at my side.

“What?” Leah challenges me. “Are you going to hit me some more?”

My grip around her arm tightens. My nails dig into my palm.

“Go ahead,” Leah urges. “After all, I’m some wanton whore who likes to have ‘fun’ with other conceited, cold-hearted men, right?”

The image of her with another man causes my vision to blur. My chest constricts, making it hard for me to breathe. My fist trembles.

To think that I gave her everything she wanted. I did everything she asked. In the end, it wasn’t enough. She still grew tired of me, just as Owen said. She still offered herself to someone else.

She’s no longer mine.

At the thought, a deep sadness grips me, eclipsing my anger. It spreads from my chest to my mind and all throughout my body, extinguishing every other feeling. Then it, too, leaves me.

All I feel now is empty, exhausted.

I let Leah’s arm go. I take my coat off the wall and throw it at her so she has something to cover herself with.

“Let’s go,” I say without any enthusiasm or emotion. “And from now on, you’re grounded.”

“Why don’t you just send me away?” she asks. “If you don’t want me anymore, if I’m worthless to you now, why don’t you just send me away?”

Why indeed? I don’t know. Right now, I can’t think. Even my mind feels empty. I just unroll my sleeves as I walk to the door.

“Come with me or stay here and wait for someone from security to take you away,” I say without glancing at her. “It’s your choice.”

I hear her scurry to her feet. As I walk, her footsteps follow.

So she’s decided to follow me back to the apartment, has she? Good. But I don’t feel like grinning. I don’t feel any tinge of victory or relief whatsoever.

She can come back to the apartment. She’ll continue to have everything she needs until it’s time for her to give birth. But I won’t spend time with her. I won’t even touch her.

Leah will just be another prize on a shelf, left to gather dust, soon to be forgotten.

I don’t care about her anymore.

Chapter Nineteen

Leah

“Ouch!”

I flinch as I feel a sting from the alcohol-soaked cotton ball that Giselle presses against the wound on my back. My nails dig into the pillow on my lap.

“Sorry,” Giselle says quickly. “Just a little bit more.”

I bite my lower lip and endure the pain as she goes the rest of the way along the line left by the horsewhip. Finally, she finishes. She gets off the bed and takes the medicine kit back to the bathroom before returning to help me put my shirt on. I wince as the cotton comes in contact with the fresh cut.