That tactic hadn’t worked, so now it was time to try something else.
I slow my breathing, reviewing the tape of what’s happened tonight like Cheslav watched his brother’s last hockey game with a cold, dispassionate gaze.
Everything he’s done since I returned has been a punishment. Punishments meant to teach me a lesson. So what does he want me to learn?
The truth dawns, dark and unyielding. He doesn’t want me to defend myself. The only way to win this game he’s playing with me is to submit.
The strong Black accountant rears back in horror at that realization.
Yet some other part of me, the same part that still demanded to be satisfied after my past lovers left rises to the surface. An odd thrill passes through me when I think of surrendering to this man. Completely and without reservation.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out, letting that previously hidden part of me take the wheels. “I’m sorry I snuck out and disobeyed your rules. I have a standing monthly call with my two girlfriends. And by the time I woke up, I only had five minutes to decide whether to cancel.”
I sigh and admit, “I was so confused when I woke up. By what happened between us this morning—and quite frankly, how I responded. I thought I was a good girl. I only just met you…”
I swallow. Embarrassed by myself. “Anyway, I guess I thought doing something normal would clear my head.”
His eyes stay cool as I tell him this. Then he says, “You said you were talking to one friend.”
“Yeah, I found out when I got downstairs that one of them had cancelled. So it was just the one friend and me.”
“If this is true, what is this girl’s name?”
I shake my head and tell him the truth again, “I don’t want to tell you. I’m afraid you’ll drag her into this if I do.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You think if I find out about your friend, I’ll make an arrangement with her, too?”
I suck my teeth. “To be clear, what you call ‘making an arrangement’ is blackmail and extortion.”
His eyes darken. “Blackmail and extortion? Is that what you call what we’ve been doing? What you were begging for just a few moments ago?”
“Yes,” I answer, even as my face heats with embarrassment. “Because blackmail and extortion is what it is. And my friend is a good person. I don’t want her to get hurt.”
His hands find my body again, but not to torture me this time. With a lift and a few body part arrangements, he sets me back down on his lap. This time facing him.
“Do you believe this is how I usually conduct my affairs?” he asks, his expression and voice cold. “That I arrange to fuck pageant princesses every month, the same as you calling your friends? That I would make similar negotiation with this friend of yours at just the mention of her name?”
“I don’t know you, and you don’t know me,” I answer with a shake of my head. “That’s the God’s honest truth. So no, I’m not going to risk it.”
He raises a hand and strokes my face with the back of his knuckles. “You are very loyal. Even to those to who you are not related by blood.”
I can’t tell from his tone if he considers that a good or a bad quality. But it’s not a question. So I don’t answer.
“Okay, krasotka. You can keep your friend’s name. I accept your apology.”
Thank goodness. I reach for the hem of my tank, ready to strip. This is what he’s turned me into in just a short time.
But before the tank’s even halfway up my stomach, he says. “I did not give you permission to strip.”
“But you said…” I start.
“I accept your sorry. Forgiveness is not yet achieved.”
Oh…
I sit there, dejected. Not sure what to do with my hands. Or the throbbing ache in my core. Then it occurs to me to ask, “What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness?”
His answer comes immediately. One simple word. “Beg.”
“What was I doing before?”
“Submitting,” he answers.
“What’s the difference?”
A smile almost makes it to his lips. “Perhaps you should start with asking permission.”
Asking permission… I think. Then shove aside what little dignity I have left to ask him. “Can I take off my clothes?”
“No.” His answer is short and cruel.
But then he says, “There are other things you can ask for. Other things I might grant.”
I think some more. “Please, can I touch you?”
“What part of me?”
“Your…uh…thing?”
“My