the sweeter the win for him. If I just accepted defeat, I can’t help wondering if a small part of him would be disappointed.
Which is exactly why I am lying in bed with a piece of fabric that I ripped from the drapes tied around my head like a blindfold.
I’m trying to outsmart him in the boldest of ways. When he sees me, there will be absolutely no mistaking my intention. To take his game and play it better. Maybe I’ve misjudged him and he will be angry. Maybe he’ll be amused and indulge me. Maybe he’ll have already anticipated this move—as with everything else I do—and will counteract with something even better.
I don’t know… and I feel like I’ve been waiting hours to find out.
So long that I wonder if he will even come tonight.
That thought worries me because he always comes. Even if it’s just to bind my wrists or stroke my hair. He comes like the sunrise. And tonight he hasn’t.
But I can’t take the blindfold off, because there is always a chance that the moment I do is the same moment he comes in, and I miss my chance.
So I lie here patiently, my stomach tumbling with butterflies, my heart beating fast, my mind hyperalert to every tiny sound around me.
It’s at the point when I am sick with nerves that I finally hear the movement of the door handle.
My stomach twists.
Footsteps. One. Two. Three. The click of the lamp, twice as he switches it on and then off. The power must be down again. Another two steps. The flick of his lighter as he goes for the candles.
And then… silence.
For the longest time.
So long that my mind starts to play tricks on me.
What if the person in my room isn’t even Baron? What if it’s an intruder, and I’m lying here blind and defenseless? No. No one here would touch me. Baron would gut them like a fish. Everyone knows that.
So what is he waiting for?
My breaths become quicker as the nerves compound and make me feel faint.
My mind is running away again.
What if he just leaves?
Rejects me?
Not only would it hurt my pride, it would dash my only hope of speaking to those women. I’m trying to figure out which outcome would hurt the most.
That’s when he moves.
Footsteps getting closer. He’s at the side of the bed.
I flinch in surprise as his hand circles my wrist and pulls it up above my head. His movements are achingly slow. He secures my hand to the bed and then comes back for the other one.
Does this mean he’s leaving?
This is what he does when he doesn’t plan on spending the night in the chair opposite.
I’m secured now, stretched out on the bed like a plank of wood. I forget how to breathe because I’m listening so carefully. Trying to hear if those footsteps are about to turn and walk away.
I will never sleep tonight. There is surely nothing that will calm me down after this.
But I don’t hear footsteps. No. It’s like the rustling of fabric. Something falling onto the floor, a gentle bump and then a louder thud. He pulls back the covers and the chill of the night air brushes over my skin. I’m wearing the nightdress he put on me the very first night.
The mattress shifts, signaling he has sat down beside me. I can’t see him or feel him, and the whole thing is disorientating.
Why isn’t he speaking?
I swallow down the lump lodged in my throat. “Baron?”
“Such a clever girl,” he says. “You are quite perfect.”
I’m lost for words for a moment and then I remember who it is I’m dealing with. “So we have a deal then?”
“That depends,” he says.
“On what?”
“On you keeping your hands away from that blindfold when I release you. You can’t very well kiss me like you mean it with them restrained, can you?” He chuckles to himself, as if quite proud of his musings.
“I don’t want to see your face,” I tell him, though I’m not really sure if that is the truth or a lie.
But he laughs as if it were a joke. “Scared of what you’d see? You think I wear this because I’m ugly?”
“Would it matter what I thought of you?”
He laughs again, louder this time. “Perhaps. I fear my ego is quite fragile when it comes to you.”
“If it’s not to hide your poor looks, then why do you wear it?”
He lets out a hmm sound and shifts on the bed. “Well,