herself. You know how it goes, kill all hope, burn down everything, so she becomes reliant on you. It’s like having a gorgeous slave who would kill just for your approval.”
I clenched my fists and finally gave him my full attention. Troy was my father’s best friend, and in some form, he was a father figure to me as well—taking me under his wing after I had killed my father. He was one of the only people who understood me, understood what we did, what we provided, and was the only one capable of seeing past every one of my cold, calculated looks to the man inside of me.
And sometimes, I hated him for it.
Troy wasn’t intimidated or threatened by my presence and made sure to put me in my place every chance he’d get. It didn’t happen often. He was getting older and didn’t have the power he once had.
Especially, over me.
“What do you really want?” I changed the subject, walking into another room that stored all my liquor. I poured a dram of whiskey into my favorite glass. “You never visit when I’m working.”
“I missed you,” he chuckled, sitting in his usual spot. The black leather chair was his favorite.
Our habits kept us focused, and each of us were religiously tied to everything we did when breaking someone new, down to the very clothes we wore and people we talked to.
This lifestyle wasn’t simple. It was a calculated web of desire, deceit, lust, training, approval, and money.
And I fucking loved it.
Most days.
He wore a black suit with his black shirt; the first two buttons were undone, revealing the matching tattoo we both got when we started our company. Something I couldn’t think about now, not with his arrogant blue eyes practically twinkling with amusement and not with his dark blond hair pulled away from his face like he’d constantly been running his hands through it. Plotting, thinking, planning. Even in his sixties, he was striking. According to almost every woman he had trained.
In the back of my mind, I was reminded of that day.
The day my world went dark.
The day he offered to rescue me, and I hated that he was right to this very day. My father’s best friend, now my business partner and the only man I could trust.
But could I really trust him?
Fuck no.
We were slave trainers. Sometimes the women were trafficked, and sometimes they were just taken. I took my seat, leaning back, folding my hands in my lap, and waiting for the question I knew would come. It was inevitable. After all, he always wanted what he couldn’t have, and I typically always gave him what was out of his reach. I was indulgent like that, and it was the only way we really showed affection.
Gifts.
Of the female variety.
A lot of them.
He uncorked the wine, poured a half glass, and lifted it to his lips with a superior smirk before saying, “How much?”
I knew it was coming. He was always so fucking predictable.
The question itself wasn’t shocking at all; my reaction, however, was.
Stomach clenched, I took a calming breath and shrugged. “More than you can afford.”
“Impossible.”
“Is it, though?”
“Donovan…” He shook his head. “You know I’m good for it, so answer the damn question before you ruin my night—is this Castella wine?”
“Vintage,” I answered in a clipped tone. “Wasted on a bastard like you.”
“Cheers.” He winked. “And try not to sound so threatened, D. This is business, not pleasure,”
I flinched at that.
“Or is it pleasure? Is this … more than just a business arrangement? Is that why you’ve been with her longer than usual?” He set his glass down, then cracked his knuckles and stood. “I called earlier; your assistant said you were busy, so I assumed work. I came by twice, and both times you were busy. With her. We both know it takes a few hours tops. You leave, you come back, you leave, you fuck with their heads, and then you have the best product possible, but you…” He pointed, his smile firmly in place. “It hasn’t been a few hours, Donovan. I even heard you grabbed the cold cream.”
I scowled. “Every pet is different. You should know that. Oh wait…” I snapped my fingers. “You wouldn’t since you accidentally killed—”
“Shut the hell up,” he yelled. “We won’t speak of it. Ever.”
I shrugged, knowing I’d hit one of his buttons. “Whatever you say, Troy.”
His eyes narrowed. “Just admit that you’re keeping her or offer her up for sale. Your choice.”
“Nice.” I