First monsters, now gods. She was losing it.
“You are lucky you did not attempt to defy me and dress,” he said, though he sounded sorrowful. “I was so certain you would.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” she replied loftily, and would keep to herself that new stab of self-recrimination. Because it hadn’t even occurred to her to put her clothes on. What did that say about her?
Nothing good, she replied to herself. Nothing that wasn’t more monsters and gods and willing sacrifices.
“I have a number of calls I must take today,” Constantine told her, his dark gaze moving over her and making her feel as if he was still touching her. “I trust you can amuse yourself without supervision?”
“Am I allowed to amuse myself?”
His gaze gleamed at her dry tone. “In any way you like, save one. I already told you that your pleasure is at my command. And only when you beg me, Molly. I meant it.”
She wanted to shake apart again, into a thousand new pieces because of that. And she was sure that he could see how close she came to doing it.
Instead, Molly pressed her bare feet into the smooth stone below, ordering herself to breathe. To remain calm. To use all the lessons she’d learned over time here. Among them, to stand about wearing or not wearing all manner of strange things while others stared at her.
Pretend this is a job, she told herself. Because it is.
“I don’t think you need to worry about me running off to pleasure myself at the slightest provocation,” she managed to say, just this side of withering. “I realize this may come as a surprise, but some of us are not quite so obsessed with endless sexual exploits as others.”
“You could have fooled me.”
That voice of his was dark like silk, and it curled in her like a threat.
She thought she should refute that. Fight him. Stand up for herself, for God’s sake.
But Constantine only smiled. “You will stay in your old bedroom, naturally.”
“Naturally,” she repeated. Because that would be more torture, wouldn’t it? “How appropriate.”
His eyes brightened. “I saw that you brought only one small bag. I brought it in, but you will not need even that. If I wish you to dress, I will provide whatever it is I think you ought to wear. Nightly, we will have dinner and you will wear whatever is left on your bed. And nothing else. Do you understand me?”
“With perfect clarity,” she said. After all, her entire adult life had been about being someone’s life-size dress-up doll. Why not his?
“Wonderful.” The way he looked at her was predatory, though he did not move from the rail behind him. As if he was letting her know he could have. As if he was making sure she knew that everything that happened—or didn’t happen—was entirely of his choosing. “Off you go then, Molly.”
But she didn’t move. She found herself scowling at him instead. “I have to say, I really thought the naked sex object thing would be a lot more about the shagging and a whole lot less about the endless mind games.”
Constantine laughed, throwing his beautiful head back and making the Greek sky dim a bit behind him. “What would be the fun in that?”
“I rather thought the forced shag was the point. And the fun, from some perspectives.”
“Oh, Molly. You’ve read this situation entirely wrong.” Constantine leaned back against the balcony railing, regarding her with more of that deep male satisfaction that made her feel as if the ground beneath her feet was not stable at all. “I have no intention of forcing you to do anything.”
“Except making me come here, then forcing me to prance around naked for your entertainment, you mean.”
That smile of his was...confronting. “I don’t recall kidnapping you to get you here. Or tearing off your clothes. Or, for that matter, forcing you to orgasm while engaged in so prosaic a task as simple sun protection.”
She felt herself flush, and there was no stopping that. “No, of course not. But persuasion is just a pretty word for force, isn’t it?”
“It’s a completely different word,” Constantine said dryly. “And besides, I think the word that is the most germane to our situation is consequences. You don’t like the consequences of some of your choices, that is all.”
“I don’t like the consequences of any of my choices,” she retorted. And thought, Or my mother’s.
“Such is life, hetaira. And someday, I have no doubt, you will dine out on all the stories of my wickedness. What a monster I am, how terrible, and so on. But between you and me, here and now, let us be clear. I have always given you choices. You always will have choices. And where there is choice, I think you’ll find, there is no force.”
She laughed at that. In disbelief. “Says the man with a sword hanging over my head.”
“But therein lies the truth you’re so desperate not to face,” he replied, with quiet intensity. “That is not my sword. It is yours. By any estimation, you should never have had any money troubles again. And yet here you find yourself, naked before me, because of the choices you made long before you had the faintest idea what was waiting for you here. Blame me all you like. I’m used to it.” He shrugged, the very picture of unconcern. “But when you’re alone, Molly, and can look at yourself honestly, if you dare—remember. Blame yourself first.”
And then he turned his back to her, leaving her to stew in his words for far too long. Before she slunk off inside...to do just about anything but look at herself in a mirror, honestly or
