Chapter 7 7

He dragged her into his private study and locked the door. The sound of the deadbolt sliding home was final.

"Strip," he ordered.

"What?" She clutched her sweater.

"Show me the mark. I want to see your 'accident'."

She didn't move.

Adrien crossed the room in two strides. He grabbed the collar of her sweater and yanked. The wool tore.

The bruise on her neck was ugly, purple and yellow against her pale skin.

He stared at it, his jaw working. "You let me do that."

"I fought you!" she screamed. "You were drunk!"

"I remember you tasting like defiance," he sneered. He walked to the liquor cabinet, and this time he did grab a bottle. And two glasses.

"You like playing games, Clarice? Let's see how you handle a real negotiation."

"Adrien, no. I'm not drinking with you."

"Drink it."

He forced the glass of scotch to her lips. She clamped her mouth shut, but he pinched her nose. Instinct took over. She gasped, and he poured the liquid down her throat.

She coughed, sputtering, the bitter, burning taste coating her tongue.

"Now," he said, sitting in his leather chair, watching her. "Let's talk about your future. You can either be a prisoner in this house, or a partner. But partners are equals. Show me you have the stomach for it."

The liquor hit fast. Her blood turned to lava. Her skin felt too tight. The room began to warp at the edges.

Adrien looked... different. The monster faded. He became a beacon of power in a chaotic world.

She fell to her knees, clawing at the carpet. Her body was screaming from the shock and the alcohol.

"Ask me," he commanded. "Ask me for what you want. A way out? Money? Power? What is your price?"

She bit her tongue until she tasted copper. No. She would not give him the satisfaction.

She curled into a ball, shaking violently. A whimper escaped her throat, but she clamped her hand over her mouth.

Adrien watched. He was waiting for her to crawl to him. To become the whore he thought she was.

But she stayed on the floor. She dug her nails into the wood until they bled.

"Clarice?" His voice changed. The anger wavered.

She was gasping for air, sweat soaking her clothes. "Go... to... hell."

Adrien stood up. He walked over to her. "Stop acting."

She looked up at him. Her vision was blurring, but the hate in her eyes was clear. "Don't... touch... me."

Then the darkness took her.

Adrien caught her before her head hit the floor. Her skin was clammy and cold.

"Shit," he cursed.

He scooped her up in his arms. The anger was gone, replaced by a sudden, sharp fear. He ran toward the bathroom.