Page 27 of Brutal

That’s not true, though. I have Mimosa.

I’m actually surprised she hasn’t spoken up. It’s a little unnerving, too, and I fix her with a hard stare. “You want to say something. I don’t know what, and it’ll probably get you in trouble, but say it.”

“You said you were on vacation.” Mimosa keeps her legs pulled up to her chest as she talks. “Was that planned? Or did you take time off because of me?”

My jaw clenches, and I hate that I’m giving a tell that I’m not entirely pleased about the vacation. I shrug as casually as I can manage, though, checking the timer. Seventeen minutes left.

Fuck.

“I decided I needed some time to myself,” I say vaguely. “And yes, to spend some time with you. Gotta get you nice and trained up, after all. Can’t have you running off or getting kidnapped like the last few.”

“The last few?” Her brow furrows. “You had others before me?”

I almost let her think that I did, but then I shake my head. “Nah. My friends can’t seem to keep their own… women in check.” I make a face. I don’t tell her that they’re completely fucking whipped now, wrapped around those women’s little fingers.

“Your friends.” Mimosa’s gaze shifts to the side, but before I can snap at her to pay attention, she looks back at me. “Like that doctor. Hunter, you said his name was?”

“Yep. Like the doctor. Lawyer friend of mine, too, so don’t think you can escape and try to bring charges against me.” Even without Hunter and Chase, I’d be able to dodge any fallout from my purchase.

I think.

But there’s no sense in risking it.

“Only two friends?” Mimosa says, and there’s something weird about her tone that pisses me off.

“Only two friends with slaves like you,” I snap even though there’s the sad fact that I really do only have three friends. Only three people who put up with me, and some days… Some days I wonder if they even want to. Hunter has drifted away since acquiring Stef, Chase is busy with May, and here I am, the poor schmuck left to deal with all of this shit on my own. At least there’s still Patrick.

Not that I’d talk to them about my feelings or whatever.

I glance at the oven timer again, and it’s somehow only gone down to fifteen minutes. It has to be broken.

“Okay. So the other people you know don’t keep sex slaves.” Mimosa’s eyes flicker to the oven timer. “The hobby isn’t that popular after all.”

“Or people just, you know, don’t talk about it,” I retort. “There are lots of people around who keep women like you. I just don’t know them all personally. There’s no club or anything.”

“I guess so.” She scowls and averts her gaze. “Somebody was buying the other women, after all.”

“Or Pavone was just getting rid of them,” I say with a nasty smile. “Like he would’ve gotten rid of you if you’d kept mouthing off and biting people. There are people who like to play more interesting games with whores like you… and those games don’t end in orgasms.”

“I’m not mouthing off,” Mimosa answers calmly. “And you don’t want to get distracted right now.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” I ask, annoyed by the way she doesn’t even show a shred of fear at what should be fucking terrifying.

“Your food will burn.” Mimosa points to the oven.

I glance at it with a curse. “You think you’re so fucking smart. So fucking cute.” And I’m tired of it. I’m tired of feeling like I don’t have the upper hand. Even Chase has his bitch fucked into submission, and here I am being led around by my fucking sex slave.

I go for the oven anyway, checking on the chops and potatoes through the glass door. It looks fine, of course; there are still ten minutes left on the timer.

I can torture her for ten minutes. Exercise is better before food, anyway. I reach down and grab her arm, pulling her upright with more force than strictly necessary. She winces, but she doesn’t cry out.

Fuck that. I’m going to make her wail and howl in pain. She’s going to be begging for me to go easy on her.

“Let’s see how much damage I can do to you in ten minutes,” I snap at her. I look around the kitchen, but there’s nothing I want to use on her. Spanking with a wooden spoon might be a classic, but I’m not going to get any of my cooking utensils dirty like that.

I do, however, have a few things stashed in the nearby guest room. It’s been a while since I’ve used any of them. Even women who want to get into my pants — and my bank account — balk when I even casually mention anything like spanking.

Well, Mimosa can’t say no, and tonight, I’m going to remind her of that.