Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite #6)(49)
Freaking sister?
“Kicking your butt out.” I gather her stupid skirt and T-shirt off the floor and hand them to her. “Out.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She has an annoying voice that I want to hit the mute button for. “What makes you the boss of me?”
I grab her by the arm, my nails digging into her flesh.
She whines. “Stop her, Cole.”
He doesn’t.
He just stands at the entrance with that blank expression that I’m sure harbours the devil and his minions.
Ignoring him, I drag Jennifer outside and throw her clothes behind her.
She picks them up, shaking her head. “No one mentioned anything about a crazy sister.”
“I’m not his fucking sister!” I slam the door shut to mute her voice.
My breathing is shallow and harsh as I stand facing the door.
There. Another one out of the way.
Mum is right. Women can conquer.
“Not my fucking sister, huh?” A sinister voice whispers from behind me.
It’s then I realise what I’ve done and that I’m all alone with Cole.
Now that I stopped whatever he was planning, I can go. I place my hand on the handle when he speaks, “Leave and I’ll call Jennifer to finish what we started.”
I whirl around and fold my arms over my chest. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Proving that you want me, even if you don’t like to admit it.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
He strokes a strand of hair behind my ear, murmuring, “We both know you’re a liar.”
My breathing loses its regular rhythm as his hand stays beside my face.
“You dressed up for me, put on red lipstick, your fuck-me heels, and your favourite Chanel perfume.” He sniffles me, and I fight the need to lean in and smell him too. “But I prefer your hair loose.”
He tugs on the pin holding my blonde strands, letting them fall in cascades down my back. “You shouldn’t be jealous of Jennifer.”
“Stop saying that. I’m not.”
“Is that why you kicked her out?”
“I kicked her out because she’s fake. She’s not me, okay?”
“I’m good with that.”
“W-what?”
“I don’t care as long as there’s a resemblance.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “What’s it going to be, Butterfly? Take her place or should I call her back?”
“If you do that, I’ll go fuck Aiden.”
He laughs, but there’s no humour behind it as he tugs on my hair. “We both know you won’t do that.”
“Do you want a video this time?”
He pulls me from the door and throws me on the bed. My gasp invades the air when my back hits the soft mattress. I swallow as I get caught in his darkened eyes.
This is the side of Cole he allows no one to see. The side where he’s ready to finish lives while he’s smiling.
He reaches into a drawer by the bed and retrieves several ropes. My eyes widen. Does Ronan allow him to keep things like that in his house?
“Her or you?”
I lift my chin. “She must be already gone.”
“She’ll come back with a simple text. What’s it going to be, Silver?”
“Do you fuck them after you tie them up?” My voice trembles at the end, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for asking the question I’ve been wondering about since the day I saw that picture on his phone.
He raises a brow. “You can find out after I tie you up.”
“No.”
“No?”
“You can’t fuck me. You can just look at me and wish you had me, but you can’t fuck me.” I won’t be one of his others. I’ll be me. The one he can’t have no matter how much he wishes to.
“I don’t agree to that.” Cole approaches me.
“It’s my deal or no deal.”
“You’re going to regret that, Butterfly.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Remove the dress,” he orders.
“You’re not going to fuck me, so no.”
He narrows his eyes, but he quickly masks it. “Very well, Silver. Let’s do it your way.”
Yes, my way.
Power buzzes through me like a high. I lie on the bed, and even though I feel a sense of control, I can’t help thinking it’s a fake one.
No. I am in control. We’re doing it my way.
Cole parts my legs and secures them to the poles of the bed. The feel of his fingers against my skin is like lava. The ropes dig into my skin so I test them by wiggling my toes; they tighten around my flesh. He moves to my hands, and when I’m spread-eagled, I realise the mistake I’ve made.
I’ve left myself under his control, where he can revoke the stakes on me. Where he can decide to never untie me.
Trying not to freak out, I speak in my most composed tone, “Now what?”
“I’m not done.”
He rummages through the drawer and brings out a ball gag and a blindfold. I swallow, then pretend the notion of losing all my senses doesn’t scare the shit out of me.
“Do you want me to stop here, pat you on the back, and let you go?” He asks in the same mocking tone he usually uses to ask if I’m a coward. He’s saying it without the words.