My gaze fell on the underwear at the far end of the long closet and I scowled.
I stepped toward it with my jaw falling slack. The most lavish lingerie I’d ever seen filled the shelves. It was all delicate, sexy, fifty shades worthy.
“This is too far.” I spun around with fury in my heart. “I have my own clothes. I’ll wear your stupid uniforms if you want, but this stuff.” I gestured to the incredible array of things. Sure, if I’d been gifted them under any other circumstances I would have been thrilled. But I wasn’t going to let this asshole dress me.
Saint’s eyes turned to pitch and I was suddenly very aware of being alone with him in here. He strode toward me and I pressed my back to the wall in an attempt to put as much distance between us as possible. But he kept coming.
“I decide what’s too far and what isn’t,” he growled, his voice driving shards of ice right into my soul. “You’re going to be the best dressed Barbie doll in the world. My doll.”
A lump rose in my throat and for a moment I wondered what had happened to this guy to make him like this. To need to control everything and everyone around him. The money he must have spent to get me these things was absurd. And why he felt the need to do it was so beyond my grasp, it was as if we were different species.
“Why?” I blurted, sure he’d never answer, but I couldn’t fight my curiosity. “I don’t understand.”
His brows rose ever-so-slightly and he drew in a slow breath. “I like things a certain way-”
“But why?” I cut over him and his eyes flashed dangerously, but there was a dark kind of desire there too that made my thighs clench together.
“It’s just how I am,” he said simply.
“Liar.” I gave him my cheek, staring at the row of shirts to my right which were coordinated from white through ivory to every shade of grey, all the way down to black. He had a real colour fetish it seemed.
His shadow surrounded me and he caught my jaw, turning me back to look at him. His fingers were firm, but not painful and the look in his eyes was full of something very almost human.
“Control is power. Without that, what’s the point of life?” He seemed to want a genuine answer to that question and my brow furrowed as I tried to concentrate. With his fresh, apple scent and icy touch making my thoughts blurry, it was difficult to manage. But I did.
“Enjoyment? Compassion? Friends? Family? Love?”
He tsked, half rolling his eyes at me. “Most people in this world will stab you in the back and claw their way over your dead corpse to take everything you own. Most of your so-called friends would do it in a heartbeat. Your family too. There are a minute number of people in life who you can truly rely on, your job is to figure out who they are fast then learn how to be the most powerful one amongst them to keep them in check.”
I gave him a look of pity because if that was really what he thought life was about, we were never going to understand each other. And he was never going to be happy. Not that I was too bothered about that part. At least the bastard was miserable, though he probably didn’t even realise it.
He released my chin, running his hand over his short hair as he kept himself perfectly composed. I wondered if he ever let his inhibitions slip. I couldn’t imagine what that would look like. He was as rigid as the tin man and just as heartless.
He headed back into his room and I turned to the lingerie, picking up a little black thong. Sure, it was hot. I mean, I wasn’t exactly complaining about the quality of this shit. I loved wearing stuff like this. But I never wore it because someone told me to, I wore it to feel good. Was he going to expect a freaking catwalk in it? Because there was no chance in hell of that happening.
“Come out,” he called and I cursed him under my breath as I exited the closet and found him leaning on the balcony railing.
I moved to his side, my eyes falling to Kyan and Blake on the couch below. They didn’t seem remotely interested in this side of things. Kyan liked the thrill of telling me what to do and me fighting back before I did it, but he didn’t get off on controlling me down to the colour of my freaking underwear. No, that special weirdness was just Saint’s style. And Blake? Well I didn’t think he cared what they did with me so long as I ended up hurt by it. He wanted me bleeding and I imagined if I ever got too comfortable in this place, he’d soon make sure that didn’t last.
Saint’s hand fell to the base of my spine and I worked hard to keep my breathing even as he moved closer. “You will return here after classes every day. If you have work to do, you can do it at my desk up here.”
I shook my head, turning to him sharply enough to knock his hand off of my back. “How am I going to concentrate on my work with three hell hounds breathing down my neck? I need some time to spend in the library. Some space.”
His lips became tight. “If you prove your obedience, you can earn yourself privileges like that. But for now, you will return here as soon as classes are out and remain here unless one of us says otherwise.”
I ground my teeth together, the sound gnawing at my ears.
“Stop grinding your teeth,” Saint instructed sharply and my hands tightened around the railing.
“If I stop grinding them, a lot of insults are gonna pour out, Saint, is that what you’d prefer?”
“What did I say about using our names?” he hissed and my pulse spiked as I glared at him.
Part of me wondered if he’d spank me again and that part was also down on her knees, flipping up her skirt and begging for it. Shit – no. Don’t let this sadistic beast into your fantasies.
“Sorry, master,” I said dryly. So dryly my mouth felt like a cactus was growing in it. It did not feel good to use that word. It felt like cutting off a piece of my soul and handing it to him.
He smirked, nodding his head in approval and that felt like a slap to the face.
I am not made to bow.
“When is your waxing next due?” he asked casually as if that was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask a person.
“None of your damn business,” I said indignantly.
“Your business is now my business,” he snarled and I pursed my lips as he fixed me with a warning stare that made my heart beat wildly.
“I got laser hair removal back in California,” I said through my teeth.
“Good,” he said, his eyes brightening – and by brighten I mean they went from a soul-filled pit of hell to the inky swirl of the River Styx.
“Any other personal questions you have no right to know the answer to that you wanna air?” I asked lightly, though my insides were knotting and fraying.
“How often does your hair need dyeing?” he asked, apparently wanting this information more than he wanted to rise to my tone.
“This is natural,” I said, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “And you will not be cutting it, or dyeing it, master.” I threw in the last word just to soften the demand I’d just made. I knew if he wanted that, he’d force it. But I would fight tooth and nail for my hair. It was more than just hair, it was my identity. It was the one thing I shared with my sister.
He fisted a hand in that identity suddenly, yanking until I yelped and forcing me even closer to him. “I’ll do whatever I want to it, Barbie. But luckily for you, I happen to like it like this. So long as you keep it clean and styled.”