Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“A message?”
He nodded as he took the necklace from the box and motioned for me to turn around.
“The necklace belonged to your mother. Your father gave it to her on their wedding day. It wasn’t just a gift, it was an investment piece. The first time he invested in something other than real estate and liquor. My father joked that it was the first time he invested in something that didn’t require the brutality of the mob.”
The necklace was cold, which made his fingers feel hot as they brushed the back of my neck while he hooked the clasp.
“Of course, we know that isn’t true,” Marksen continued. “There is no way these are conflict-free diamonds. The piece was made in the 1890’s, and he paid two point four million dollars for it and then lost it in a poker game.”
A lump formed in my throat at the painful family story.
The fit was perfect but the way he clasped this heavy weight around my neck felt meaningful, like he wasn’t so much putting a necklace on me as collaring a pet. The way his fingers caressed my bare spine didn’t help the feeling at all.
He moved me a few steps to the side and positioned me in front of a small mirror on the wall.
The necklace looked amazing, like it was made for me. Cartier always had a sophistication that was just breathtaking, but this deceptively simple piece was the perfect addition to any gown. It was elegant in its simplicity and intricate in its glamour. It was a show-stopping statement piece that would look good with almost any evening attire.
“As the eldest daughter, this piece should have been handed down to you. Now, because of your father’s crappy poker skills, this necklace belongs to me. Just like because of Luc’s shortsightedness, you are mine.”
Being a Manwarring, I had diamonds, as well as several impressive pieces from Cartier. Some were modern pieces I had bought or received as gifts, others a few vintage pieces that were passed down. None were as spectacular as this one. It actually looked like I had stars around my neck.
“It looks so perfect on you, I would almost be tempted to let you keep it after all of this is over. Too bad bratty little girls don’t get rewarded with pretty necklaces.”
His words pulled me from the trance the stones had cast over me.
My back straightened as my lips thinned. “I am not a whore. You cannot pay for my body with pretty jewels.” My gaze narrowed on his reflection in the mirror.
“I already own your body. Now I want your complete submission.”
He stepped away and walked into the other room.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror and reminded myself of the plan. Just go along with what he says, do what he wants, and wait. When he relaxed, his guard would go down, and I could make my escape.
I followed him into the living room, which was a mess.
Not the mess I had left behind from all the things I threw, or even the sofa cushions misplaced from our earlier … activities.
No, all of the broken glass and pieces of drywall had been cleaned up, though the hole in the wall was still there.
It looked like the aftermath of an out-of-control party.
Empty liquor and champagne bottles littered the hardwood floor. Glasses were scattered around, some empty, some broken, others half full with lipstick prints smearing their rims. I even spotted the remains of the dress I’d worn to the wedding on the floor. There were streamers and confetti all over the place. There was even drug paraphernalia—a few pipes, a couple of empty orange prescription bottles, and a syringe or two—lying around.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” Marksen said as he walked over to a camera that was pointed at the coffee table. The table itself had more glasses, a few condom wrappers, a vibrator, and a mirror with a rather large pile of white powder, a few hundred-dollar bills rolled up into little tubes, and a few razors. Next to the mountain of what I could only assume was cocaine, there were several white lines of it, carefully measured out to the same length.
It looked like in the maybe two hours since I had been in the other room, a massive and very elite party had happened here.
“What ...” My words trailed off as I took in the entire room, the camera setup, complete with a tripod, a lightbox, and reflectors in the corners by the ceiling.
It was then I knew what was happening.
This is a set, or rather, a setup.
A stage for him to take blackmail photos.
“So I think we should start with the coke. You are going to kneel right there in front of the table and act like you are going to do a few lines.”