We stared, lust sparking, both unable to look away. Q was the black storm cloud, sucking me toward him like I was a rapidly flying sparrow. The difference between his tattoo, and now, was I wanted to stop flying and let the cloud capture me.

“Thank you, esclave.” He dropped his eyes, sitting straighter in the chair.

A shiver danced on my skin, and I reached for the folder, giving myself something to do.

Q watched with unreadable eyes. I sneaked glances at him as I fiddled with the file. I changed our relationship by tending. As his slave, I shouldn’t want anything to do with him, let alone nurse him back to health. But the knowledge that my master—my angry, crazy, lusty master—let me care, made me wet and tingly.

My mind pretzeled, trying to figure out my feelings. Why did caring for Q make me powerful and content and lost, all at the same time?

Q didn’t say a word as I opened the folder, peering inside.

I frowned at the scrawling French text. I may understand spoken French with ease, but I wasn’t very good at reading.

Q inched forward, linking hands between open thighs. Just like he did when I first arrived and he secured the tracking anklet on me. My ankle itched, thinking about the device, funny how I’d grown so used to it. It was my safety blanket—the knowledge Q would always come for me—just like he said in my dreams.

He pointed at the top of the page where a logo stood out: a bird silhouette in flight with a background of sweeping skyscrapers. “Moineau Holdings,” Q said.

My heart rate quickened. I looked into his eyes. “Sparrow Holdings.”

He nodded, opening his mouth to answer, then stopped. He cleared his throat. “You said you knew about property. This is my legacy. I’ve procured over five hundred acquisitions in under twelve years.” His eyes glazed. “I took over when I was sixteen. It rules my life, but I’m thankful for what it gives me in return. What I’m able to do with the money.”

He never spoke like this. I couldn’t move, in case I broke the spell and he shut down.

Pride filled his gaze; for once, the aura of anger and self-deprecation left, suffocated beneath a powerful CEO who ruled an empire. “It used to be called Mercer Conglomerates when my father owned it.” Hate thickened his voice, hands curled. “The moment he died, I changed it. Not only the name, but the entire company’s structure.”

Silence fell, and I didn’t want to speak, move, or bring any attention to myself. Q spoke as if I were more than just a sex toy or belonging. He allowed me to see the passion in his heart for a company I knew nothing about. He hinted at a wealth I couldn’t comprehend, and a lifetime of servitude to a company he ran from a teenager.

Q bristled with anger, mentioning his father. Curiosity burned, and I wished I knew what happened. Did his father beat him?

Blinking away memories, he waved a hand at the folder. “Read it. I’d like to know your thoughts on this particular acquisition.”

“What?” I couldn’t stop my incredulous tone. I stared at the folder as if it stole my slave status and flung me into an employee. I didn’t want to be Q’s employee, I wanted him equally. Then answer him… he’s asking you as a woman—he’s seeing you.

Heart racing, I looked at the page, tracing the sparrow logo with a shaking finger.

Q breathed hard, rubbing a temple. “I’m asking what you think, esclave. You studied property feasibilities at university, didn’t you? Unless you lied about that, too?”

His dig at lying about my name irked. I’m ready to tell you. Just ask.

Temper filled me, slapping away my nerves. Q wanted my opinion, yet wasn’t prepared to give me rights as a human. My eyes flashed. “You’re asking me? The slave you’ll never let leave the house, or use a phone, or go on the internet. The girl you accepted as a bribe.” Horror throttled and I finally knew what I’d been a bribe for.

My lips curled as I looked back at the folder. “I was a bribe for a building contract, wasn’t I?” I frantically flicked through the pages, expecting it to give answers. “The Russian gave me to you for something illegal.” My tone blazed, self-righteous. “What did you agree to do?”

I couldn’t think straight—I’d been nothing but a business transaction, yet Q shot the Russian for hurting me. Where did his loyalties lie? To me—his esclave— or the people who made him a fortune?

Q straightened, withdrawing the connection between us. “That is none of your business. I’m asking about this merger. Not another.”

I shook my head, unable to let it go. I finally had one answer, and the rest started falling into place. “Is that why you have other girls? You accept women as bribes to allow buildings and things you shouldn’t dabble in gain approval?” I breathed hard; it all made sense. “What happened to the other girls?” My eyes flew to the aviary, hidden behind foliage. “Why is it just me in this house? Will you throw me away when you tire of me? Or wait till a better replacement comes along?”

Q glared, sparking with temper.

My hands curled, and I wanted to slap him. “Tell me the truth! What will happen to me?” The fear of the future crippled, turning my lungs into whistling, useless things. I thought if Q came to care for me, he’d keep me, and I’d never have to re-enter the world.

But, once again, he spun a lie. I’d never be able to stay here permanently, as more girls would arrive. More contracts would be signed. Some other slave would spread her legs for Q to hit and f**k and rule.

Blackness tinged my vision as panic rushed. If I used up my welcome, I would be cast out, or killed, or sold to another.

Q sat, deathly still, watching me break apart. He pinched the brow of his nose, trying to find relief from the headache. “You have the wrong idea, esclave, and I’m not in the mood to set you straight.”

My God, I was so happy I never told him my name. It would be worthless to him. He didn’t care. I bet he called all his bribes esclave, because he didn’t keep them long enough to learn their true personalities.

My heart broke. I stood, holding out my hand. “I want my bracelet back. I want you to let me go.”

Q chuckled, wincing. “The bracelet is mine. Just like you are mine. I thought you’d accepted that.”

“Never. You think I lie. Everything about you lies. I don’t want a master who isn’t truthful. I deserve better.” The urge to hurt made me yell. “I want a master who buys me! Not accepts me because he has no other choice.”

Eyes flashed dangerously; he growled, “Take that back or I’ll make your captivity long and full of hardship.”

I wanted to laugh, or cry, or both. Somehow, the threat sounded like a lie. If he meant it, surely he would’ve done untold terribleness by now. For two weeks, he didn’t touch me, while I begged in my dreams for him to tie me up. The songs he played about living with demons and uncontrollable urges were bullshit.

He was a cold-hearted man who teased and cajoled, showing glimpses of the woman I could become, before slapping me down to nothingness.

I was done.

Q tensed his jaw, standing in one fluid move. He slapped me so hard, my neck snapped back. Tears gushed as I cupped my burning cheek. Fear chased away my fight and I cowered.

Q’s face raged with anguish and undeniable hunger. He rubbed his palm, smiling darkly. “You can’t speak that way and not be punished, esclave.” Grabbing the back of my neck, he jerked me forward. A tongue captured salty tears. “First sensible thing I’ve seen you do.” His accent was low, exotic, turning his praise into dark and sensual.

Despite my pain and anger, his voice wrapped around my heart. I struggled with visions of fighting harder, pushing him to the floor, straddling, begging him to deliver on whatever sinful promise he hinted.

But my fear of abandonment ruled stronger. I bowed my head. “And what is that?”

Q let me go. “Recognise me. See me. I am your master.”

My throat closed, fighting with injustice. He was my master, but for how long? I don’t have a choice in the length of my captivity. I never did. I never would.

He would never see me as Tess. As a girl. A woman who refused to bow to anyone. A woman who was more than just a f**king bribe.

I glared. “See me. I am not yours to torment.”

Our eyes clashed, locking with a battle of wills. How many of these nonverbal fights must we have? My breathing came hard as Q blazed with black desire. The air crackled with monstrous urges; even the birds shut up.

My body warmed, heated, melted. No, do not betray me. I couldn’t stop slickness building between my legs, or fantasies darting in my twisted mind.

It had been too long since my last orgasm. I’d saved myself for Q, now I never wanted him to visit me again.

Remorse and guilt sucked me into a pit. How could I think Q might be the one for me? He didn’t make my soul sing. He made it weep, and scream, and tear itself into pieces.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You just don’t want to see.”

“See what?” I snapped.

Grabbing my barcoded wrist, he jerked me against him. His body infernoed with heat. “You are mine. I can do what I want with you. I can dress you. Fuck you. Send you away. Loan you to others. You belong to me. And you’ve finally realized it isn’t romantic, it isn’t sexy, or fun. It’s something no one should want or desire. You’re a captive.”

He shook me, his headache etching eyes with pain. “My role as your master is to debase you to the point of having no feelings, no emotion, no hopes or dreams. I tell you to f**k another man, you ask for how long. I tell you to wear something, you do not f**king chop it up in defiance. You wear it, and appreciate what I give you. You’re mine, esclave. And it isn’t a f**king happy ever after.”

He let go, pushing so I stumbled. “How does it feel to face the truth?”

I couldn’t breathe. Facing the truth terrified more than anything. In that moment, I fully believed Q would do everything he said. He would debase me to the point of being empty. Happily treating me like a shoe or a tatty suitcase.

I was nothing.

Q advanced, grimacing with pain. “Get on your knees, esclave.” He pressed a heavy hand on my shoulder.

I was too numb to kick or run. So many emotions in such a short amount of time. What the hell just happened? One moment, I wanted to hear him call me Tess, the next, I wanted him dead. I couldn’t keep up.

Q forced me to my knees. “Undo my trousers.”

I didn’t think I’d ever find numbness again, but as I fumbled with Q’s belt, the cloud of indifference swept me away. My heart raced as I undid the zipper, pulling his hard c**k free, but my mind went blank.

Q rocked on his feet, fisting my hair for balance. “Suck me. Make my headache go away by other means.”

I looked up, circling fingers around his hot girth. A non-interested thought flickered in the blankness. Either he was really brave, yelling at me then expecting me to suck him and not bite, or just incredibly stupid. I didn’t care either way, I’d obey.

I pumped once, shuffling forward on my knees to bring the tip of him to my lips. Q exhaled heavily, pushing h*ps forward.

I tongued his slit, tasting saltiness. The sense tried to shoot me back to reality—I could hold him ransom while I sucked. I could bite and cause immeasurable pain. I could barter for my freedom.

Opening wide, I deep throated him.

He groaned, tugging my hair as his ass clenched. I could bite, but I didn’t want to. Even now, my body betrayed. I trembled with lust, tinging vacancy with desire.

I withdrew, fisting him, licking.

“Oh, merde!”

I froze; Q scrambled back, holding his wet cock.

Suzette stood behind, mouth hanging open. “I’m sorry! I—eh—” Spinning around, she mumbled, “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

I rocked on my heels, keeping my head down. Q was livid, shoving himself into his trousers. He winced when the zipper came exceedingly close to sensitive skin. “C'est quoi ce bordel?” What the f**k?

She bounced, looking at the ceiling, fingers fluttering at her sides. “Je suis désolé, but there are some men here to see you, maître.”

Q breathed hard, smoothing his hair and suit, glaring at me so intensely it felt like another slap. My cheek smarted in response. “Send them away. I’m not prepared to accept guests so late.”

Suzette looked over her shoulder, relief on her face. Spinning all the way around, she looked at me with her soul bared.

Heartbeats galloped out of control. Instincts screamed into being and I wanted to block my ears. Looming palm-trees seemed to inch closer, branching with doom. I didn’t want her to speak.

“They won’t leave, Q. They have a warrant.”

He spun to face her. “Warrant?”

I slapped a hand over my mouth. My world imploded. The police. Brax. He got my message. He was alive! Brax is alive and sent someone to rescue me!

My heart bucked; I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do anything but kneel.

Hopelessness squeezed as Q turned to face me slowly. I shrivelled. The consequences of running away, once again ruined my life.

The police had come for Q. I ruined his life—just like he ruined mine.

That’s not true, and you know it. He gave you back your life. He introduced you to a new life. A better life. I forced my brain to quiet, risking a look at Suzette.

Her eyes brimmed with disappointment and overwhelming sadness. I folded closer to the floor, hating betraying her.

She broke eye contact, looking at Q. “The police believe you’re holding a girl called Tess Snow,” Suzette whispered, voice breaking.