Under His Command
Finally, I spoke, my voice low and deliberate.
“You don’t need my permission,” I said, “but you do need to remember your place. And your place, Riley, is under my command. You signed that contract. You made a commitment. And as long as that contract exists, I own you.”
His eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he seemed to think better of it, his lips pressing into a thin line as he lowered his gaze.
Good.
“Now,” I said, my tone lighter but still authoritative, “do we understand each other?”
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