Chapter 18

I’m in the short hallway that leads to my bedroom when the intercom rings at eight o’clock.

I’ve been here for a while, looking in the mirror in the dress, unbuttoned and turned slightly to one side so the lingerie shows. I run my fingers over the tattoos—at least the ones that will give me strength tonight.

The flame Cass has tattooed on my chest, a little slick from the ointment she applied to soothe the pain and protect it.

The padlock hidden under the tiny thong.

And the ribbon with the initials of the men I’ve owned.

They all remind me that I know how to do this. They’re symbols that I can keep the situation under control—that I can show Marcus and myself that I’m the one using him to get what I want, not the other way around