the view will be nowhere near as good from the floor.”
Something burns inside me at his words. I’ve listened to his stupid demands. I’ve cuddled into his chest. I’ve painted my face. I’ve done everything he’s asked.
But I can’t do this forever.
“I’m not a dog.”
He lets out a singular laugh and tilts his head to the side. “What an enlightening observation. What do you suggest, my sweet girl? Shall we walk in side by side? Or perhaps I should crawl in behind you on my own leash? Would you like that?”
Even though he’s talking about himself, his tone is still threatening. “No.”
His hands move to either side of my head, boxing me in against the wall. He leans his head in close to me and says, “Let me make this perfectly clear for you. You think Maxim had women? I have ten times the number. Do you think this is one, big, happy sisterhood I am running for the sheer fucking joy of it? Those women will eat you up and spit you out. If they even suspect for a moment I give favors to anyone, they will tear her to pieces just for a hope in hell’s chance of taking her place. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I can’t look at him, but I nod.
“I will have my answer.”
“Yes. I understand,” I say through gritted teeth.
I understand perfectly.
His word is law.
My wants do not matter.
It’s what every other girl at the carnival had to learn long before they reached my age.
“That pleases me more than you can comprehend. Now tell me, shall I have Andrei fetch you a collar and a pretty chain? Maybe I’ll attach one to each of your nipples, too. Give them a little tug every time I catch you looking away.”
“No!”
No. I would rather sit on his knee for the entire evening than do that.
Baron leans in close to me and places his hard metal mask against the top of my head. “Such a clever girl,” he says as his hands graze the top of my shoulder. He’s gentle, and it lasts only a few seconds before he pulls back and yanks me from the wall to stand in front of him.
“Walk,” he says.
12
Sapphire
Baron sits in a chair that is raised high on a platform at the back of the room. He may as well be a king sitting on a throne, for he looks exactly like it. Legs spread, arms resting on the sides of the chair.
He nods once at me as I stand in front of him, clearly gesturing for me to sit down.
I can feel eyes on me everywhere.
Everyone is curious.
They whispered and muttered under their breaths as I walked in front of Baron with my head bowed low—just as he told me.
Tinker. Gypsy. Filthy whore.
Slurs I’ve heard all my life, but somehow they never hurt as much when I was with my own people. Now it’s only me, and with the full painted face there is absolutely no chance of blending in like the rest of the women here.
I crawl onto his knee like a mouse approaching a lion.
He wastes no time in bringing his arms around me, one crossing my back while the other rests lazily across my stomach. My legs—black from the stockings I’m wearing—dangle over the arm of the chair.
The room is massive. I notice the dome I saw outside curving up in the middle of the roof, a large unlit chandelier hanging down from the center. The lights attached to the walls are dimmed down low, but they illuminate the benches on all four sides. They start at ground level, the one behind it getting higher and higher again until there is barely enough space for a man to stand up before he hits the ceiling.
And they are all facing one thing.
In the center of the room sits a structure, something in between a boxing ring and a cage with eight sides. I remember that sport more than I do golf because as a child I couldn’t understand the point of it.
Two men fighting each other for entertainment?
Where is the entertainment in that?
It was a good reflection of how the old days were, though, for something so mundane to be the height of excitement. People would stay up late to watch the fights or travel to far corners of the globe to see them with their own eyes.
Strange… but I guess the old days were strange times.
Why would a man like Baron find this amusing?
I don’t need