Although I couldn’t see his face, I didn’t need to. I could hear the contempt loud and clear in his voice. “When did you get this?”

The upside to stripping naked before him was I’d arrived at this perfect moment, and vindictive warmth spread through my limbs. I was proud to show off my statement of defiance. “It’s what I needed my car for.” My tone was overly bright and fake. “Do you like it? I hope so, because your money paid for it.”

I didn’t know what kind of reaction I expected from him, but it went deathly silent, and it was far scarier than I would have thought. It was quiet for so long I began to wonder if he’d abandoned me or rage had vaporized him into thin air. I reached out, pawing into the unknown.

“Uh, are you still there?”

“Finish your task.” His sharp order was the sting of a crop, and I jumped in response. “We’ll deal with your decision to deface your body at a later time.”

My expression soured as he sucked all the energy out of the moment, deflating my attempt to get under his skin the way the tattoo was inked in mine.

Hesitantly, I hooked my fingers under the waistband of my panties and slid them down my legs. I tried to be as careless and awkward about it as possible. This wasn’t a striptease or a seduction.

I stepped out of my shoes and dropped my underwear on them, leaving me wearing nothing but the engagement ring his son had given me.

There was a reason the Greek gods were usually depicted in the nude when most art from other cultures at the time clothed their subjects. The Greeks didn’t see nudity as shameful—it was the body’s natural state and the hero’s form. Perhaps it was fitting I was naked now.

I was going to be the hero of my story.

Once again, Macalister’s cool hands were on my arms, but rather than turn me, this time he guided me to walk. The smooth pebbles weren’t too painful as they dug into my bare feet and sensitive arches, but they were cold and foreign, and after several paces I could feel the grime collecting on my skin.

I tried to keep my bearing as we walked, but his hand was on my shoulder, and I knew he was staring at me, and once he began to make me turn in place, it was futile. He led me through switchbacks and reversed directions so many times, I was hopelessly lost.

In the myth, the hero Theseus is saved by Ariande, who gave him a golden ball of yarn for him to use to find his way out after defeating the Minotaur. But I didn’t need yarn to escape the Labyrinth. I told myself when the tie was undone, I would know where I was in a single look.

I can do this.

He pulled me to a stop, and his hand was gone. It gave me a moment to try to imagine what we looked like. The high walls of dense green leaves surrounded us. He was the Minotaur cloaked in a designer suit, and I was the shivering maiden, naked except for a strip of red silk covering her eyes.

Macalister’s voice dripped with seduction. “Would you like to earn five additional seconds?”

A warning tingled on the back of my neck. This advantage would cost me. I didn’t hide the wariness from my tone. “What would I have to do?”

“I’d like to kiss you.”

I jolted away from the sound of his voice and fought the need to run, the urge to shake my head and refuse. This was another attempt to disorient, only it was on a much larger scale.

But it was five seconds, and that was huge. It could be the difference between winning and losing, and wasn’t I supposed to win at all costs?

“Where?” I demanded.

The pad of one of his fingers brushed over my lips and his voice was hushed. “Here.” His rasping voice sounded like sex. “Give me five seconds, and I’ll give you yours.”

Beneath the blindfold, I closed my eyes.

I’d allow one terrible kiss to avoid another which would be far worse. Five treasonous seconds to prevent two minutes of the unthinkable.

“Fine.” I forced air into my lungs. “Do it.”

The rocks skittered as he stepped up to me. I stood like a woman about to be beheaded. Strong and tall and brave in the face of utter fear, with only my trembling bottom lip revealing the turmoil raging inside me.

Macalister’s touch was more delicate than I’d expected. I was expensive crystal, and he worried he might break me. His cool palm cradled the side of my face and slowly angled me up to receive his kiss.

My insides threatened to shake loose and abandon the rest of my body. I wanted to cower in fear and shame that I was going to let this happen. Every time I gave him an inch, Macalister took so much more, and I was vaguely aware I was on a slow slide to hell. A death by a thousand cuts.

Tags: Nikki Sloane Filthy Rich Americans Billionaire Romance
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