Clint paced the entry hall, the usually unobtrusive Christmas music beginning to set his teeth on edge. His brothers would arrive in less than an hour. He still second-guessed the plan. Genevieve had improved. When he’d instructed her to do a better acting job, she’d delivered. He couldn’t imagine how afraid she must be of the dungeon to be so compliant. And she’d never even seen the dungeon.She probably imagined it as a far worse place than it was. In her mind, Clint had no doubt she saw damp stones with water dripping from some unknown source and algae growing through the cracks and crevices. There would be a dripping sound, a dank, putrid smell, a dirt or concrete floor, a chill that wouldn’t leave the air, and heavy chains.He’d not bothered to disabuse her of that notion. The scarier the dungeon was to her, the easier it would be to get her cooperation. In reality, the dungeon was none of those things. If what he’d been told by the servants who had gone to get her belongings

The washcloth was soothing and cool against Genevieve’s heated flesh. It blocked out the world and gave her a place to hide. And in that place she was able to calm down.Clint’s thumb skimming over the back of her hand made her feel strangely safe. In spite of the kinds of things she knew he enjoyed doing to a woman, and in spite of his family, when he touched her like this, she couldn’t help feeling like everything would be okay.His voice penetrated the bubble she’d put around herself. “Do you think you can sit up now and let me fix your face?”He released her when she pulled her hand out of his and pushed herself against the headboard. Reluctantly she pulled the washcloth away. Clint patted her face dry with another piece of gauze. He must have bought stock in a first aid kit manufacturer. Both his home and Angelo’s were like a triage unit.He didn’t speak as he laid out the items of her makeup bag. She had several concealers and foundations, but she didn’t think he’d know what

Genevieve had been lying in bed tossing and turning for close to an hour when there was a knock on the door."Clint?” she said as she approached, wrapping a robe around her. She was a split second from opening it when she heard a drunk voice on the other end.“You stupid cunt,” Raffalle slurred from the other side. “I ought to kill you. Do you know the trouble you’ve caused for this family? You owe him gratitude and whatever fucked-up shit he’s into for stepping in to save you.”Genevieve backed away, stumbling over the foot of the bed in her attempt to get to the intercom.A groggy Demetri answered when she pressed the button. “Yes, Miss Newton ?”“Raffalle is outside my door, drunk,” she whispered.Demetri became alert, and the touch of annoyance evaporated from his voice. “It’ll be taken care of.”A few minutes later there was arguing on the other side of the door and then silence and then another knock. This time,Genevieve didn’t make a move, having learned that lesson—almo

Clint descended the stairs into the dungeon to find Miss Fin sitting on the red leather couch against the wall, her feet pulled up with her. Shehadn’t bothered to get dressed, but had put down a towel from the bathroomto sit on.She looked up when he entered the room, and he felt a moment’s guilt for what he was about to do. Fin was the whole package, and if not for Genevieve, he might have tried to see what could develop. But taking hisownership of Genevieve to the next level had become an all-consuming obsession.Her consent upstairs had been given with a large amount of fear, but an equal amount of dignified determination. He was almost tempted to call itoff again, but he needed this. How could he know what she could and couldn’t handle if he didn’t give her the chance?“I’m not going to see you again, am I?” Fin asked. Hearing Genevieve crying on the stairs was all she’d needed to start putting pieces together.“We keep missing each other. I’m with someone or you are. Pe

The eerie music played on as they lay in bed. Some of the songs she recognized, some she didn’t. There couldn’t be more than an hour on the record. Hadn’t they been down here months? Years? But it must have been less than an hour. Was time even real? The curtain had been pulled back to reveal the void where every second was eternity, and there was no way back out again to where time marched on like obedient linear soldiers.She’d tried to prepare herself for the hitting, but when Clint bent her over and fucked her instead while she was too scared to be turned on, itbrought everything home. She was his property. She didn’t want this, but he’d been in the grip of something she didn’t feel strong enough to breakthrough. The Clint that acknowledged her wouldn’t be the one she thought she’d fallen in love with.Whatever romantic fantasies she’d had of love between them scattered and faded into the empty air. Why did it have to be like this?And to allow him to kiss her like that… to r