2
BELLAMY
As soon as the last Elder swished out of the room and the door closed behind them, I yanked the covers up over my breasts and glared at Emmett. “Was that entirely necessary?”
He stared coolly back at me. “What do you mean?”
I just gawked at him. I’d had a certain idea about how tonight would go.
I knew he’d pick me. Maybe I was full of myself to say so, but half the boys back in Darlington Prep had crushes on me. And Emmett, with his big puppy-dog eyes, hadn’t been half as subtle as he thought.
Not that I cared.
Not back then.
I was too desperate, putting on the front as queen bee of the school. Everything perfect on the outside so no one ever thought to question anything going on behind closed doors.
And Emmett Washington had been nothing but an awkward tagalong to the real heirs who ran the school. He barely filled out the expensive clothes his new-money parents bought him.
But the Emmett who’d just slung me around and demanded such dirty things in the voice of a man who knew when he commanded things that people would obey…. Holy shit, where had he been hiding all this time?
I sat up straighter in bed so I could look down my nose at him—a trademark Carmichael move. “I mean, you didn’t have to put on that performance for them.” I flung my hand out toward the door. “It was unseemly. All we had to do was meet the requirements of having sex. You didn’t have to turn it into a circus like that.”
Emmett just smirked at me, making no move to cover himself at all. The girth of his cock had only slightly relaxed and was still obscenely large, lying against his thigh. “I don’t think you get how this works, princess. I’m the one in charge here. You’re my Belle. You do what I say.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “But you picked someone who knows a little bit about how these things go. My mother lunches with all these men's wives, for God’s sake! If I’d been a man, I’d be in the Order like my father was!”
His face lost the smirk, and he advanced toward me across the bed. “So why are you here? And why’d they let you in? I thought it was strictly off limits for—” He smirked again, looking me up and down as if finding something lacking. “—girls like you.”
My chin jutted into the air. “You mean women with class?”
He glared. “I mean women who are too uppity to be grateful for the opportunity. Which it seems like you are. So tell me, Bellamy, did I make a mistake choosing you?”
I glared back at him. “You know you didn’t.” I allowed a little spite to enter my smile. “After all, I was there.” I gestured beneath us at the bed. “You seemed to be pleased with your choice.”
His eyes were cold and calculating as a snake as he smiled back. “So did you. Is that why you volunteered to be a Belle? So you could be fucked rough and dirty like a slut? I bet if I reached between your legs right now you’d still be slick for me to go again.”
“You wish, you son of a bitch.”
A finger came sharply into my face. “This is your first and only warning. You will refer to me as Sir.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. But really, he couldn’t actually be serious.
But he wasn’t laughing… or even smiling.
“I’m not fucking kidding,” he clarified. “If we do this, we do this my way. Otherwise, you can walk your pretty pink little ass on down the stairs and out the door.”
“But,” I balked, “there’s no part of the rules that say I have to call you—”
“These are my rules. And the rules say the Belle is to please her Initiate at all times.”
For a second, my mouth just dropped open. I heard about these Trials for years in whispers and rumors, and I’d never heard about anything like this. “So what?” I asked. “You just want me to be your round-the-clock slave?”
The honest to God truth is that I should have run as soon as I saw the gleeful light enter his eyes at my question.
“That’s exactly what it means,” he said, not giving an inch.
“But—”
“No buts,” he cut me off.
“That’s not fair!” I cried.
He laughed at that, and it wasn’t a kind or happy laugh. He just got close to me and took my chin in his hand. Not a painful grip, but it was firm.
“You think life is fair, princess?” He shook his head, and his eyes had never been so dark. “Well, that’s your first mistake. You think it was fair that you were born with everything, and someone like my mother was born with nothing? You think it’s fair all the other women vying for your spot needed the prize that comes along with passing these Trials more than you ever could, but I picked you anyway? You think it’s fair that people die of starvation and disease on this planet every single fucking day, but you literally eat with a silver spoon most days of your life?”
He’d been inching closer to my face with his every word, my chin still in his grip. “Wake up. You’re about to get a crash course in fairness, princess. Because life isn’t fucking fair.”
I jerked back from his touch, and he just grinned.
“Why are you being so hateful?” I asked, wanting to shove him in the chest or punch him. I wanted to hurt him like he was hurting me with his words.
He thought he knew me because he’d seen me from afar for a few years in high school? Screw him. He didn’t know me. None of them knew me.
“I’m not being hateful, princess.”
I glared at him. “Stop fucking calling me that.”
“Princess. I’ll call you anything I fucking please. And you will obey me as your master, both when we’re downstairs during Trials and the rest of the time.”
He was nuts. He was seriously out of his damn mind if he thought—
“You’re the one who showed up where she didn’t belong tonight, princess. If you don’t agree to the terms of my contract, all you have to do is walk down those stairs and leave.”
Damn him.
Goddamn him.
He had me over a barrel, and he knew it, even if he didn’t know the specifics.
I thought back to the wedding when I so foolishly came up with this plan. Okay, so none of this had really been my idea.
It was my mother’s idea to whore me out to save the family fortune.
But I had foolishly chosen Emmett, thinking he’d be the easier of the last two bachelors left to tame.
Ha.
Hahahaha. Glaring at the black-eyed man in front of me, I’d sooner move a Mack truck than change the mind of this stubborn bastard who wanted me as his slave.
A slave? He was right on some accounts. I had grown up pampered, and what he was asking…. Well, actually what exactly was he asking for?
“What do you mean, a contract?” I asked. A good negotiator never made a decision before they had all the facts.
“We discuss soft and hard limits, what you are and aren’t willing to do. I’ll outline my expectations of you in this power exchange.”
His tone had changed completely, as if he were a lawyer discussing clauses in a business meeting. “If there’s anything you’re absolutely unwilling to do, sexually or otherwise, we talk through it and negotiate. You’ll have a safeword that will stop all play if you feel things have gone too far beyond your comfort zone. But in this situation, and unlike a true BDSM dynamic, using your safeword will mean exiting the mansion and leaving the Trials early, thus failing.”