Page 55 of Vicious
“He did buy me,” Stef says, biting her bottom lip and taking a deep breath. “But I love him. He saved me. I was going to die at Ntimacy without him. Or worse.”
That makes me stop short. “You were there, too?”
Stef nods. “Yeah. I was…” She forces a smile. “I was the crybaby of the bunch. I didn’t make any money because I cry all the time. Master likes that, though.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. He even has her calling him Master?
“Master, huh?”
Stef’s cheeks flush even more, and she glares at me. “Yes. Master. That’s what I choose to call him. No matter what you think, I love him, and he loves me right back.”
“Men like him don’t know how to love, Stef,” I say as gently as possible—which isn’t particularly gentle.
“And women like you think they know everything about everyone,” Stef says with a little bit of a bite to the words.
Again, I blink at her, startled by the show of bravado now that we’re alone and she’s away from her “master.” “I’m sorry, what?”
“You don’t know me,” she informs me steadily. She brushes at the tears that well up in her eyes almost absently. “You think you’re better than me. Well, Master—Hunter—would do anything for me. Can you say that about Mr. Vicious?”
“I’m not deluded enough to think he loves me,” I tell her, finally heading back into the kitchen for the next batch of dishes. “He’s probably delusional enough to think he does, though.” I grimace. It’s not something I’ve thought about before, but it’s probably the truth.
“You should feel lucky if he does. Master and Mr. Brutal would never, ever put up with you acting the way you do,” Stef says.
I gawk at her, almost dropping the salad bowl in my hands. “I’m sorry, what?” For a second, I’m caught up on Drake’s last name, but then what she said really registers in my head. “So you think I should be a Stepford wife pod person drone like you?” I ask, my voice rising. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Stef’s brave front crumbles, and the slight teariness devolves into full-blown tears. She spins on her heel, heading straight for the living room.
Fuck.
Chase had given me one real order: don’t upset Stef.
And what had I done?
Upset Stef.
Fuck!
I leave the salad bowl on the counter, following after her. “Hey! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
Hunter is already standing with his arms open to her, and the look in his eyes is one of complete hatred.
I recoil from the show of emotion from the man who’d been nearly silent and impassive throughout most of this dinner party, knowing that this is not good. At all.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“Chase,” Hunter says in clipped tones. “If you don’t punish your misbehaved little brat, I will.”
I look over to Chase, somehow expecting the usual amusement, but he actually looks pissed off.
“You couldn’t even last through dinner?” Chase asks coldly.
“I didn’t mean to upset her. I really… Damn it, I’m sorry, Stef,” I try again even though I know it’s far too late for apologies.
Stef is audibly crying, pressing her face against Hunter’s chest, and if I hadn’t seen the stricken look on her face… Well, I’d think she was acting so she could get me in trouble. But no, she seems genuinely upset, and so is everyone else.
Except for Drake, anyway, who looks utterly delighted at this turn of events.
Chase stalks over to me and grabs my wrist. “I was going to wait until after dinner for a demonstration of a light flogging, but I guess we’re skipping to the main event.” He starts dragging me over to Drake.