Page 22 of The Queen (Masterpiece Duet 2)
Nina hadn’t blinked when I showed her into Damon’s bedroom—or when I continued into the small closet-room where we’re standing now. She had eyes only for the cipher.
I wave a hand, a little relieved that the sleeping arrangements are apparent. Mostly embarrassed that this is where he put me. “I have my own bed.”
“That doesn’t mean you won’t join him.”
My cheeks heat, memories of Damon’s strong body flush in my mind. From the outside he seems lean, but without the cover of his suit I could see ropes of muscle and layers of scars that speak to merciless strength. I could see the endless lines of ink etched into him. Monsters with only one eye. A wild woman with snakes for hair. And waves for miles of muscle.
“I won’t.”
A smile curves her lips, making her look like a dark-skinned Mona Lisa. “I wouldn’t judge you. There are plenty of women who’ve wanted him over the years. Plenty who’ve tried to get where you are.”
My tongue feels thick. “In a servant’s room?”
“Any way they can get him, I suppose. If you’re into that kind of thing.”
I blink, uncertain whether she’s talking about the man or the servitude. “What kind of thing?”
“Ownership.”
The line between me and my composure is made of steel, a long taut string. It snaps with an almost audible creak. I lean back in the small wooden chair, whiplash making it hard to speak. “He doesn’t own me.”
“Right,” she says, turning back to the cipher. “I’ll take high-resolution pictures of the code, plus your work—if you don’t mind.”
“It’s fine,” I manage. “If it will help.”
I set the note down directly under the lamp, studying the random assortment of letters and numbers along with her. Something about the sight of them stirs a memory, but I can’t bring it to the surface.
Nina uses her phone to take multiple pictures of the note, making sure each one uploads completely. Then she snaps quicker images of my work product—mostly my handwriting scribbled down with intermittent question marks.
“Gabriel’s going to find her,” I say, trying to convince myself more than her.
“Of course he is,” she says, a little sadly, and I realize that she means dead or alive.
She turns to leave and pauses at the door. “You know, before? I didn’t only mean that he would own you. It could be that he’s been waiting for someone strong enough to own him.”
My laugh bursts out of me, a strange relief after the pressure of the last week. “No way.”
Her smile is indulgent. “Are you sure?”
“He definitely thinks he owns me.” Because he bought me. He won me, but that’s not something I’m going to explain to her. If she works for Gabriel Miller, then she might already know. It’s strange to talk about something so personal with a stranger, but in some ways that’s the only kind of person I could share this with. It would be too humiliating to dissect with someone I know. “Look where he put me. I can’t even leave my room without going through him.”
Which puts a much more sinister slant on my stay here. I insisted that I wanted to stay before, and it’s true. What happens when I want to leave? Will he let me?
“Yes, but look at the way he protects you.”
My eyebrows lower, because I hadn’t realized I was in danger. “What do you mean?”
She looks at my little bed, the plain desk. “This room. It doesn’t only keep you inside. It keeps everyone else out. They’d have to go through him to get to you.”
I swallow hard, realizing that she’s telling the truth. It’s a place of both shame and honor. Which one did Damon Scott intend? Maybe both, because he’s nothing if not perverse.
It’s been strange not having the nightmares, as if Damon’s presence outside my room keeps them away. I feel almost guilty about that, as if I should be more messed up over Avery’s disappearance. Like I should have terrible dreams every night. I’ve put my whole life on hold looking for her, but it doesn’t feel like enough. I’m not sure anything would.
“No one’s trying to get to me,” I say, but it comes out as a question.
“Right,” she says. “The Den is the safest place in the city. And this room is the safest place inside.”
The words are meant to be reassuring, but a small seedling of uncertainty plants itself in my stomach. The safest place. I repeat the words, wondering why I don’t find comfort. Maybe because the safer I need to be, the more I’m afraid of the invisible threats that made it this way.
Chapter Fifteen
A growl breaks through the silence, making me startle in bed. My gaze flies to the silver bell on the bed, but it’s still and silent. The hair on the back of my neck rises.
