Kian
She stares at me like a doe caught in the headlights. Her amber eyes are drenched in fear, but I can still see the curiosity there.
I raise my eyebrows and wait for her to say something. She looks around uncomfortably, and even though she shuffles on her feet, she never actually goes anywhere. “I… I…”
“You what?” I ask dangerously.
I take a step forward. She stiffens. “I… don’t know.”
“You found the entrance behind the tapestry.” I press. I already know the answer. But I want to see her squirm.
“Yes.”
“You were searching for it.” It’s not a question.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She glances up at me, surprise wrinkling her brow. “You have a black door that’s barred from everyone in the mansion but you. What did you expect me to do?”
“Respect my privacy, perhaps.”
She snorts “You haven’t respected mine,” she responds, the fight pulsing back into her body. “Why should I do that for you?”
I laugh. “Touché.”
She seems surprised by my response. Her jaw snaps shut as though she’s forgotten what she was about to say.
“Do you know what this place is?” I ask, moving closer to her.
I still leave a wide berth of space between us, but she seems less tense now that it’s clear I’m not going to fly into a rage. Yet.
“I think so,” she says with a tentative nod.
“And you know what happens here?”
She nods and swallows hard. “No wonder you’re so into control,” she rasps. From the expression on her face, I can tell she didn’t intend to say that out loud.
“I do like control,” I admit. “But you haven’t been listening to me. Control isn’t what you think it is. You still think control is what your brother does to you.”
She looks around. “All these… things… say otherwise. This stuff says you like to hurt people who can’t say no.”
“You badly misunderstand what happens here, then.”
“Then explain it to me.” She pales slightly.
And I’ll admit, it’s a bold proposal. Especially given who I am. Who she is. But I’m gratified to see she doesn’t shy away from it. The girl has fire in her. I’ve seen it from the start.
“I don’t know if you’re ready for that.”
She starts to answer, then pauses and reconsiders. “Maybe you’re right. I… I don’t know enough. I’m still not sure if I should hear out your explanation or run screaming for the hills.”
“The choice is yours, Renata.”
She shivers when I say her name. I understand that—I feel something when I say it, too. Something deep and hot and powerful surging through me.
She nods a few times in a row, like she’s amping herself up for whatever happens next. “Okay,” she whispers. “I want to know. Tell me what this is.”