disturbed minutes later by the sound of a buzzer. “Your food has arrived, sir,” the AI announced.
“You really do enjoy narrating the obvious, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry. You really do—”
I leapt over the counter to reach the refrigerator screen and slammed my finger against the Deactivate button.
This time, Willow’s giggle registered as a complete sound and she didn’t cover her mouth, but she did try to give me her best straight face when I glanced at her. It made me wonder what she looked like when she smiled.
I added it to my mental task list of things I wanted to accomplish with her.
Leaving her in the kitchen, I walked to the door and opened it to find the female server from earlier standing outside with a tray in her hand. “I see Meghan already delivered my message,” I murmured, pleased. I hadn’t expressed the need for her to be the one to serve me during non-dining-hall hours, but I wasn’t going to complain.
The girl didn’t say anything, just stood there.
“Do you want to hand the tray to me or come in?” I asked her.
She blinked as though confused. “I…” The tray began to rattle on her palm, her body beginning to shake.
“Here, give it to me,” I said, reaching for the tray just before her arm gave out. I caught it in time to stabilize it, only then realizing how heavy it was for her frail body to carry up here. She fell to the ground in a bow, apologies running from her lips in rapid formation.
What. The. Fuck?
“Come inside. Now,” I demanded, stepping backward with the tray. The poor girl began to crawl, making it the slowest trip over the threshold I’d ever seen. “Walk.”
She pushed up off the floor, her white uniform stretching across her shoulders as she moved. I caught a red flare, then the hint of iron touched my senses.
She was bleeding.
I moved swiftly into the dining area to set the tray on the table. Willow stood waiting by the counter bar that separated the dining room from the kitchen. When she saw the server enter, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink color, and a new scent entered the air, this one primal in nature.
Territorial, I recognized. Willow didn’t like having another woman in the suite. Interesting.
I’d address it later.
Instead, I focused on the server. “Take off your shirt.”
That scent from Willow grew, distracting me again.
Definitely jealous, I thought.
Whatever intrigue I found in that revelation was lost as the server removed her shirt, exposing a series of cuts across her creamy flesh. “Show me your back,” I demanded.
She caught her lip between her teeth and turned, revealing the abused flesh between her shoulder blades. “Who the hell did this to you? And why?”
The girl shivered violently. “I… I did not please you and I was punished.”
“By whom?” I snapped, livid.
“Madame Meghan,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, My Prince. I promise to be better. I won’t disappoint you again. I—”
“Stop.” The word came out harsher than I intended and sent the poor girl to the floor again. This was exactly what I despised about this reprogramming. There was no backbone, no fight, just a bunch of mousy mortals bending over backward to appease their masters at the expense of their personalities.
They were all walking doormats.
I stalked over to the fridge to activate the AI again. I didn’t even give it a chance to speak; I just said, “Call Silvano’s Penthouse. Now.”
“Calling Silvano’s Penthouse.”
A beat passed before Damien answered, “I see you figured out your AI.”
“Get the fuck down here. Now.” I hit the Deactivate button, expecting it to hang up, but it didn’t. Gutting the damn AI and transporting my own equipment down here had just become my first priority for the week.
“What’s happened?” Damien asked.
“Just get down here and hang up the phone.”
He didn’t comment, just did as I requested, and I immediately hit Deactivate before the AI could start speaking again.
This time, Willow didn’t giggle. Her gaze was on the girl, and that perfume of jealousy had disappeared, replaced by acute concern.
My jaw ticked.
Comforting humans wasn’t in my repertoire. Minus Willow. She was… different.
I met her gaze, then gestured with my chin toward the girl. “Help her.”
Willow didn’t ask how or why; she just left.
Frowning, I stepped out of the kitchen to find her disappearing into the bedroom. “What the hell are you doing?” I called after her.
“Helping!” she yelled back.
I couldn’t decide if she was being serious or clever, but when she returned with several towels,