“You did,” I counter with more venom than needed.

“I did what?”

“You reached inside my bubble.”

He picks up his utensils and cuts into his food. “That’s because you didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“What if I want to have a choice?”

“Too late.” He stares at me with those unnerving eyes. “I already claimed you as mine and there’s no going back.”

My fingers tremble at that word. Mine. But it’s not out of fear, it’s something else that I can’t quite pinpoint, so I blurt, “That’s called coercion.”

“Always with the labels, Lia. It’s getting tedious.”

“I told you. I’m giving things their name.”

“It changes nothing except offering you some sense of fragile justice.”

“Justice is not fragile.”

“Oh, but it is. Those who believe in it fail or are slapped in the face by harsh truths.”

“Then what do you believe in?”

“Patterns.”

I’m taken aback by that. After I take a bite of my salad and swallow, I speak, “How does someone believe in patterns?”

“Patterns are a powerful tool that allow me to see the outcome before it happens.”

I scoff. Of course someone like Adrian would like that type of power.

“You don’t agree, Lia?”

“Not particularly. I’m just not surprised you’d be attracted to that sort of thing.”

“You’re starting to get to know me. That’s progress.”

“I don’t know you, Adrian, and I prefer it stays that way.”

“Why? Because you can bury your head in the sand and pretend like none of this is happening? You do realize that’s useless, right? The more you resist, the more pain you bring upon yourself.”

“Let me worry about that. Whatever I feel or don’t feel is none of your business.”

“Watch that tone, Lia.” His voice lowers with an unveiled threat.

“Or what?”

“Or I will take my belt to your ass.”

“You…”

“Go on.” His eyes spark with pure sadism. “By all means, give me a reason to punish you.”

Fire explodes in my chest and I try to swallow it down, to no avail.

Jesus. This man is a true devil.

I stuff my face with the salad to keep from spouting whatever is trying to come out.

“Slower,” he reprimands. “Or you’ll get indigestion.”

“As if you’d care.”

“Of course I would. I’m not that heartless.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I truly am not—under the right circumstances.”

“You mean the ones you lay out?”

“Correct.”

“So it’s your way or the highway?”

“More or less.”

I bite my lower lip, then quickly release it when I find him watching it with undivided attention and a frightening sheen of lust.

“What’s going to happen when you’re done with me?” I ask the question that’s been niggling at the back of my mind.

“I said I won’t be.”

“Surely you’ll get bored. Everyone does.”

“I’m not everyone, and it’d be wise not to compare me to anyone you know.”

As if I would ever find someone like him.

Luca is a bit elusive, like Adrian, but he’s not as intense, and I’ve always considered him a friend, so he doesn’t really count.

I clear my throat. “Point is, this phase will end. Like everything about life.”

“I’ll think about that when it comes to it.”

“Is that what you did to the others? You thought about their fate when the time came.”

“The others?”

“The ones who came before me.”

“I’ve never done this with anyone before you, Lenochka.”

Bolts of both thrill and fear spark through me. For some perverse reason, I like that this is also a first for him, that we’re at least equal in that regard. But knowing I’m his first, that he broke a pattern for me when he appreciates them so much, is also enough to make me imagine the worst.

Shooing that thought away, I ask. “What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?”

“Lenochka?”

“Bright light.”

My lips part, not believing he just called me that. Surely, it must be a play of my imagination. “You think I’m a bright light?”

“That’s what I said.”

“But you think I’m lonely.”

“That doesn’t make you gloomy. A rose shines brighter alone than when it’s in a field.”

“Is that why you plucked me?” My voice lowers as I stare at the bowl of salad.

“Possibly.”

“Just so you know, the prettiest roses have the deadliest thorns.”

He stands up. The motion isn’t abrupt, but I sink in my chair, partially regretting what I said and partially proud of it.

The proud part wins, because I lift my chin. Fuck him. If he thinks I’ll just cower away because he tells me to, he’ll be disappointed.

He stands beside me, his sheer size towering over me like doom. “You think that scares me?”

“I didn’t say it to scare you. I’m just relaying facts.”

“Here’s a fact for you, Lia. Deadly thorns thrill me.”

I swallow. “But they injure you.”

“It’s worth it.” He motions at my forgotten plate of food. “Are you finished?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because I’m going to fuck you until you scream, my deadly thorn.” And with that, he picks me up and carries me in his arms toward the bedroom.

15

Lia

For two weeks, we fall into a sort of routine.

I go to rehearsal, and when I get home, I find Adrian waiting with either takeout or home-cooked food he brings over. I know he doesn’t cook here, because he said he brings them from his house.

Then he carries me to the bedroom and fucks me until I fall asleep. Sometimes, he does it on the table, making me straddle his lap as he owns every inch of me. Other times, he grabs me as soon as I step inside, lifts my skirts and fucks me in the entrance.