Buttons & Lace Read online

  I returned to my desk, my cock still rock-hard and throbbing. If I didn’t fuck her soon, I’d have to entertain myself with my hand, which wasn’t nearly as much fun. My eyes drifted to the jar sitting at the edge of my desk. It was an old antique found at the flea market years ago. A collection of buttons filled it to the brim. Some were brown with tinsel, others were ivory with lace woven through the holes. Each one was unique, handmade and imported.

  And they gave me an idea.

  ***

  I sat down to dinner that night. As I expected, she didn’t join me. She was avoiding me after the way I slapped her. And she was probably a little afraid since she slapped me back. She tested me, pushed me to my limit. Now she knew there really was a beast behind my hazel eyes. “Lars, tell our guest to come down for dinner.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” He left the room and ventured upstairs.

  I stayed at the table where the food was laid out. Zucchini lasagna sat in the center of the table along with a garden salad. Homemade bruschetta sat alongside it, every Italian’s favorite appetizer.

  Lars returned a moment later. “She declined the invitation.”

  My irritation didn’t blossom immediately. That was the answer I expected. “Inform her there will be consequences if she disobeys.” It was a power play. I was exerting my dominance, and she fought it every single step of the way. I loved the challenge. I loved the fact she wouldn’t submit. She just made me even more dominant than before.

  Lars nodded before he left the dining hall. He returned to her room and shared my message. Then he came back without my guest beside him. He just looked at me.

  I tried not to smile. This was the exact response I was hoping for. “Thank you, Lars. I’ll take care of it.”

  He walked out of the room and retreated to the kitchen, knowing whatever was about to happen next was something he didn’t want to be a part of.

  I walked up the grand staircase then entered her bedroom. She was sitting on the couch reading a book, still wearing the same dress as before. She didn’t look up when I entered, as if she knew I was coming. “I’m not hungry.”

  I stepped closer to her, my hands in the pockets of my suit. Without saying a word or raising a hand, I threatened her. I conveyed all the horrific things I would do to her if she didn’t comply. Every time she resisted, I just pushed her harder. I loved an opponent who could match me. I loved that she wasn’t scared to oppose me. Her bravery was amusing.

  When she felt me approach, she couldn’t hide her unease. Her fingers gripped her book in anticipation, waiting for my palm to collide with her cheek.

  I grabbed her by the neck and pinned her to the back of the couch, jolting her even though she’d been expecting something. I leaned over her, my face pressed close to hers. “Get your ass downstairs. Don’t make me ask you again.” I squeezed her throat, almost constricting her air supply. The more she fought me, the sweeter the victory. My desire got the best of me, and I placed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. Despite the aggressive way I grabbed her, she released a breath at my touch. Her thighs squeezed together. I aroused her. She could try to hide it, but it was a wasted effort. “Do I need to ask you again?” My lips brushed past hers when I spoke, and I looked at the fear in her eyes.

  She tried to speak, but most of her words never came out. Only one did. “No.”

  My cock twitched in my trousers when I won the battle. Every war we fought was challenging, but that made my victory all the sweeter. I pressed my mouth to hers and gave her a soft kiss, a gift for her obedience. “Good girl.”

  ***

  She sat across from me and ate her dinner quietly. She pulled her brown hair over one shoulder, revealing the slender neck I wanted to bite. The skin was so flawless, somehow escaping a scar from Bones. I wanted to make my mark on the virgin flesh, to scar her so every man would know where I’d been.

  She kept her head down and didn’t make conversation. She was a sore loser. We went head-to-head, but she lost the battle. I went to her room, conquered it, and then dragged her back down with me.

  The jar of buttons sat on the table, acting as a table setting. I waited for her to acknowledge it, to ask about the strange piece of decoration that clashed with everything else in the house. She seemed curious earlier that morning.

  “I’m willing to let you go.” I finished my food and concentrated on my wine, the grapes that my company harvested and pressed. Nothing beat the exquisite quality of my harvest. I wasn’t the biggest winery in Italy without reason.

  She stopped eating when she heard my words. In fact, her fork was dropped on the plate, making a distinct clatter. The words must have sounded too good to be true because she asked, “What did you say?”

  “I’m willing to let you go.” I repeated my sentence word for word.

  Her hand immediately went to her chest, right between her curvy tits. “You’ll let me leave? You’ll let me go home?” Her voice cracked in exasperation. Her desperation was heavy, and her true desires shined through. She wanted freedom more than anything else. She wanted it more than food or water. She wanted it more than good health.

  “I’ll let you go. Whatever you decide to do with that freedom is at your discretion.”

  Her eyes watered and her breathing increased. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I knew you were a good man. I knew you were—”

  “I’m not finished.” There was nothing more insulting than telling me I was a good man. I knew exactly what I was—and an honorable person wasn’t one of my qualities. It rubbed me the wrong way, like the head of a toothbrush against carpet.

  Her mouth immediately shut, and the tears in her eyes froze in place.

  “I’m not giving you freedom. You’re working for it.”

  Not understanding, she continued to stare.

  “By letting you go, I’m losing something invaluable—my revenge. You can’t put a price on that. You can’t make up for that. I lost men when I captured you from Bones. I’ll lose the respect of my brother if I let you go. You need to pay me for that.”

  “I...I have some money. But I need to—”

  “I don’t want money.” Money meant nothing to me. I had more than I would ever need.

  “Then what do you want?”

  I grabbed the jar of buttons and turned it over, spilling every single one onto the table between us. I righted the empty jar and set it on the table. “I want you.”

  She stared at the buttons between us before she reached out and grabbed one herself. She felt it between her fingers, sliding her thumb across the smooth surface. It was ivory with four open holes.

  “Every time you please me, one goes in the jar.” I grabbed one off the table and dropped it in the vase. “When it’s full, your debt is repaid. And you’re free to go.” At least three hundred buttons fit within the jar. It would take her a long time to work it off, and it would be long enough for me to lose interest in her by the end.

  She threw the button on the table. “And what if I say no?”

  She wouldn’t say no. She loved it when I touched her. She loved it when I kissed her. She wanted me but refused to have me out of principle. I was giving her a way out, giving her a justification for the means. And it allowed me to control the situation at the exact same time. “Nothing will change.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You’ll live here indefinitely. I’ll put you to work around the house with the other maids. I’ll never take you against your will or let anyone else do the same. You’ll be comfortable, taken care of, and safe. But that’s all your life will ever be. You’ll never return home. You’ll live out the remainder of your days in this house. You’ll die here.”

  She surveyed the buttons. “There must be hundreds...”

  “Three hundred and sixty-five.” The exact number of days in a year. “That comes out to one year of servitude.” That was more than fair, if you asked me.

  “I’m not fucking you for my freedom.” She grabbed a handful and threw them at my chest.
“I deserve to be free because I’m a human being. I deserve respect for the shit I’ve been through. I deserve—”

  “You don’t deserve anything unless I give it to you.” I rose, the buttons falling to my feet. “I’ve given you a choice. Take your only way out or be my prisoner for the rest of time. Live out your days in my vineyards and wait for your heart to stop beating. Or pay off your debt and be free.”

  “I don’t have a debt.”

  “You don’t get it.” I gripped the edge of the table as I leaned forward. “I have to sacrifice more than you could possibly understand. I have to let something go that will haunt me forever. You do owe me a great debt. In fact, you owe me a lot more than this.” I pointed to the jar, the vase that could hold an infinite number of pieces.

  “How do I know you’ll really let me go?”

  “Because I’m a man of my word.” I may be a criminal, but I also lived by a code of ethics. Every organization had rules. Even pirates had rules. It made order. It expelled chaos. “If I tell you I’ll let you go, I will.”

  She searched my eyes, looking for a lie. “You promise me?”

  She was going to agree. We were just steps from sealing the deal. “Yes.”

  She came to a stand, her eyes moving to the buttons scattered across the dining hall. “I have to think about it.”

  No. I wanted her now.

  She left the table and headed to the door.

  “Take all the time you need.” Hurry the fuck up.

  She walked out without saying another word, leaving me alone.

  With three hundred and sixty-five buttons.

  Chapter Twenty

  Pearl

  Three hundred and sixty-five buttons.

  That was a lot of buttons.

  That was a lot of sex.

  That was more sex than I’d had with Bones even though he took me several times a day. That was an enormous debt I had to repay. Every time I got underneath him, I would become an object—his object. I’d have to spread my legs anytime he commanded and give him whatever he asked.

  Could I really do that?

  I was attracted to Crow. When he kissed me, I felt a longing deep in my gut. When I felt his chest with my fingertips, I was impressed by his strength. When he rubbed my clit, he took me to the edge of an orgasm, something I’d never thought was possible after what I’d been through.

  And he ignited a spark within me.

  But it was still wrong. What he was asking of me was illegal. He wanted me to willingly be his slave, to accept his terms and give myself up. It was wrong to the very core. It was unacceptable.

  But it would lead to my freedom.

  With every fuck, I was closer to going home. I would constantly be working toward something, loosening the shackles around my wrists. I would be gaining my rights back, closer to returning to America and my home. I would be closer to returning to Jacob. He would understand my decision. If it were the only way out, I would have to take it.

  Crow was a criminal, but he was honest. If he gave me his word, he kept it. That was something I thought I could rely on. He told me he wouldn’t let anyone have me, and he stood up to his brother to accomplish that. Despite the way he slapped me, I believed he was better than the other riff-raff I encountered. There were still some redeeming qualities inside him. There was still a light of goodness. There was still hope.

  I had to trust him.

  If not, I’d have to settle for being a prisoner forever. While the mansion I lived in was beautiful, it wasn’t enough. I needed freedom. I needed power. I needed more. I would never marry and have children if I stayed there. I would never go back to work or buy a house in the city.

  I would be stuck there forever.

  I hated the choice he laid out before me, but I couldn’t argue with which one I needed to choose. It made me respect myself even less, but I also knew I had to do it. I had to do whatever was necessary to survive.

  And I would never apologize for that.

  ***

  I took a week to think things over. I didn’t want to discuss it with him until I had an answer. He respected my solitude and didn’t come to me. He didn’t ask if I’d come to a decision. He didn’t send Lars to ask me either. Patiently, he waited.

  After he ate dinner, I knew he stayed in his study. He either worked or did something else. The only time he went into his bedroom was when he slept. I approached the door and rapped my knuckles against the wood.

  “Come in.”

  I stepped inside and saw him sitting in a red armchair in front of the fire. He wore gray sweat pants and a black t-shirt. It was the only time I’d seen him in regular clothes, other than the evening he broke me out of Bones’s place. The shirt fit tightly against his powerful chest. His shoulders were outlined as well, along with the impressive muscles of his arms. A hardbound book was in his lap, and he set it off to the side when I entered. “Can we talk?”

  He nodded slightly to the armchair beside him.

  I took that as an invitation and sat down.

  The table beside his chair held a glass of scotch. Square ice cubes slowly melted in the cup. He drank coffee in the morning, wine with dinner, and usually scotch in the evenings. It was a pattern I’d come to notice.

  He refused to speak, his eyes looking at the flames in the hearth. When we didn’t see each other for a while, he closed off again, putting up his walls and refusing to let me in. Every time we came together, we had to start over.

  “I’ve thought about your deal.”

  He turned his face my way, listening to every word.

  “I have some questions.”

  He propped his elbow on the armrest and ran his fingers along his jaw. He gave another slight nod.

  “Can you do whatever you want to me in exchange for a button? Do I have a say in it?”

  He dropped his hand from his chin and placed it on the armrest. “Of course, you have a say in it. Ever since you’ve arrived here, you’ve had a say in everything. I would hope you’d appreciate that by now.”

  His anger could be triggered by anything, even by harmless words. “So I can say no?”

  “You’ve said no plenty of times in the past. Why would that change?”

  “So under this agreement, I can say no?”

  “Yes.”

  “So we’ll never do something I don’t want to do?”

  “Correct,” he said in a bored voice.

  “Will you hurt me?” That was bound to be a part of the agreement. Even though he hadn’t hurt me up until that point, I knew he wanted to.

  “Yes.”

  “And do I have a say in that?”

  He nodded.

  Now that my curiosity had been quelled, I understood what I was getting into. The fact that I had some rights in the situation, had some control, made everything a lot easier. I could do this. I could do this three hundred and sixty-five times so I could go home. “Okay.”

  He turned his gaze my way, the crackling flames reflecting in his eyes. The room darkened noticeably even though the flames burned hotter. His body tensed in desire, his hands anxious to grab me now that he had permission. “We have a deal?”

  I refused to let myself think about it too hard. I had to do what I had to do to get out of there. I could work through it with a therapist when I was back at home. “Yes.”

  ***

  We entered my bedroom, the place where I slept every night. The moment I said yes, Crow wanted to get down to business. He’d been eager for my answer even though he never showed it. Now, he couldn’t hold back his patience. He was ready to ignite.

  “Can I make one request?” I’d come to love this room. I’d come to love my little window that looked over the fields. The couch sat next to the fire, the place where I read in peace.

  He hadn’t touched me yet, but his arms hung impatiently by his sides. He gave me a dark look, annoyed that I had something to say.

  “I love this room. Can we do this somewhere else?” It was my safe haven,
the closest thing I’d had to a home. Bones used to take me in the bed I slept in, so I never felt safe. But this little room meant the world to me. I didn’t want to taint it with what we were about to do. Every time that door was shut, I wanted to know this was my space, and no one could take it away from me.

  Crow must have understood because he didn’t ask for clarification. He accepted my words without question and walked out, moving down the hall until he entered an unoccupied bedroom. It was similar to mine, with a large bed and a beautiful window. It was a little bigger, with a desk in the corner. Even though it was clean, it seemed like it hadn’t been occupied in a decade. “Is this okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  He shut the door and strode into the room. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a button. He held it up for me to see before he flicked it on the bed. It was his first payment, the first dent in my massive bill.

  I felt like a whore.

  But at least I didn’t feel like a slave.

  I went close to him, unsure what he wanted to do, if he wanted me to do anything. The room was dark because we hadn’t turned on any lights. He stood in front of me, towering over me with his height. His breathing remained even. He was calm, like he’d already done this a hundred times.

  I knew I should take the lead and get it over with, but I couldn’t. I was frozen to the spot, scared of the moment. He kissed me before, and I enjoyed it. He touched me before, and I liked that too. But I still couldn’t move.

  Crow noticed my unease and dug his hand into my hair. He pulled me close to him, our faces touching. The touch was so gentle that it felt familiar, as if he’d touched me like that for years. It was even soothing, just to be held. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment I captured you.” The words were harsh, unromantic, but he made them smooth. “I’ve been thinking about it every moment of every day.”

  I stared at his lips, watching them move. “Are you going to hurt me?”