The Patron and Her Possession

For three years, I was his possession. Then, overnight, my patron went bankrupt.

Grayson Hayes left me a parting gift—a substantial sum of money—and then calmly prepared to kill himself.

When he faced me, he said, Don't... don't mock me, Thea. And you can go. You're free.

No. I shook my head. "Now, it's my turn to own you."

1

The news of Grayson Hayes’s financial collapse spread like wildfire.

It had to be true, because his enemies were already circling me like vultures. The quickest way to break a man, after all, is to take his woman.

"You're a sick bastard," I snarled into the phone at some sleazebag making me a crude offer. "If it itches that bad, maybe you should just cut it off."

Ignoring his indignant sputtering, I smashed the end-call button and blocked the number.

A quiet chuckle, exhausted but genuine, came from behind me.

Grayson emerged from the entryway and pulled me down onto the sofa, his arms wrapping around me. He sank against me, his head resting heavily in the crook of my neck.

"I've never seen you lose your temper," he murmured. "I always thought you were a kitten. Turns out you've got claws."

He gave a wry smile. "A shame I figured it out so late. No more chances to see it, I guess."

That was the thing about men like him. Even with nothing left to his name, he could still manage a smile.

The air grew thick with unspoken things.

"Where's the card I gave you?" he asked suddenly.

"In my purse," I said.

"I put two million in it. Thea," he said, his voice flat, "just like you always wanted. You're free."

He said it with half his face cast in shadow, his expression unreadable.

It was true, I had craved freedom. But looking back, I don't think I ever actually planned on leaving him. Life by his side was, in its own twisted way, incredible. The money was endless, the sex was phenomenal, and he was devastatingly handsome.

He was just a little… possessive. The ropes, the restraints—it was all part of his world. It hurt, and I'm not a saint, so I'd bite back with a sharp tongue whenever I could get away with it.

But now wasn't the time for venom. "Is it true?" I asked softly. "You've really lost everything?"

He turned his head away. "Yes." The word was barely out of his mouth before he added, "Please, don't mock me. You can go."

The veins on his forearm stood out, stark and blue, like he was fighting a war within himself.

I pressed on. "You gave all that money to me. What are you going to do?"

My answer was a long, heavy silence.

I tossed the dagger I’d found in the bathroom onto the coffee table between us. "Planning on this?"

"Thea," Grayson's voice dropped, a warning rumble in his chest. "Don't."

He pushed again, more urgently this time. "You always wanted out, didn't you? So go. I can't force you to stay anymore. I don't have the capital for it."

I leaned back, affecting the same lazy indifference I always had around him, and didn't answer right away.

I can barely remember how pathetic I was when I first met Grayson Hayes. All I know is that I was desperate enough to be considering selling my body to pay off debts when he swept in, slapped a black card on a table, and took me home.

I’d heard the whispers about him before then, of course. Civilized monster. A wolf in a designer suit. None of it was flattering.

And I did try to escape. More than once. Each time, he dragged me back.

He had a GPS tracker bonded to one of my molars. Cameras in my room. The phone and laptop I used were custom-made, his spyware woven into their DNA. He controlled every facet of my life, right down to the flavor of my toothpaste.

To him, my struggles were like a kitten batting at a ball of yarn. Amusing. But every act of rebellion came with a punishment. Sometimes I was tied to his grand piano. Other times, strapped to a leather pommel horse. Always in a pose, a position, that he found pleasing.

I was forbidden from speaking to any man, or any woman I didn't already know. If he ever caught me, that person would simply... vanish from my life.

For a long time, I was terrified of him.

Even now, after our relationship has blurred into something far more complicated, the affection I feel for him is still laced with that old, primal fear.

But the heart is an unruly thing. And now… now I might finally have the upper hand.

The thought sent a jolt through me.

"No," I repeated, shaking my head as the idea took root and blossomed. "Now, it's my turn to own you."

2

"You're going to..." Grayson hesitated, the words catching in his throat. "How... how exactly do you plan to... own me?"

I took a moment to think.

Damn. I’d been impulsive.

Oh, well. I'd just treat it like I was hiring a very exclusive, very expensive escort.

"Thanks to you, I've saved a little over the years," I began, my voice cool and measured. "I also invested in some real estate. If I liquidate everything, and sell off the bags and diamonds you bought me, it should be enough to cover a portion of your debts."

A flicker of something—surprise? admiration?—crossed his face, before his brow furrowed again. "For someone who was being... owned... you have a very clear grasp of your assets." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Were you always planning your escape?"

The air chilled with his words. I instinctively shifted back on the cushion.

In a flash, he was off the couch, his hands slamming down on either side of me, trapping me. He loomed over me, his presence as overwhelming as ever. "All this time, thinking about running," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "Did you ever once think about—"

My breath caught.

But then his tone shifted, becoming weary again. "It doesn't matter. You got your wish. Go, Thea. Before I change my mind."

For the first time in three years, I rolled my eyes at him. I pointed a finger at the video intercom screen. "Do you have time to change your mind? You've got a welcoming committee."

The words had barely left my lips when he glanced at the screen, saw the crowd of angry creditors, and suddenly slammed me against the front door.

"We've never done it with an audience pounding on the door," he breathed, his voice rough.

"Grayson!" I hissed.

The movement must have alerted the men outside. Through the security feed, I was forced to watch as their predatory eyes locked onto the camera, trying to pierce through the door.

The man responsible for it all was pressed against me, his lips so close to my ear his breath was a hot whisper. "You can scream loud, if you want. Let them hear you. Maybe they'll break down the door and kill me."

Ignoring my protests, Grayson pinned my hands behind my back.

God, I hated this.

I struggled as his fingers went to the buckle of his belt.

He paid me no mind, muttering to himself, "I owe them so much money. They'll probably carve me up, part me out. Sell me for scrap."

Like I gave a damn.

"..."

I don't know how much time passed before my wrists were finally free.

Furious, I snatched his leather belt and threw it on the floor. One hand on my aching back, I jabbed a finger into his chest. "Don't you forget who owns who now. I'm your patron! You do as I say."

"And what are your demands..." Grayson's expression was placid again, all trace of his earlier desperation gone. "...my patron?"

"First," I said, thinking hard. "No suicide."

"Fine."

"And cut the arrogant act."

"...Fine."

I tossed a new debit card onto the table, adopting his old air of casual authority. "This is in my name. It's everything I've saved over the years. Should be around fifty million."

As he stared, stunned, I produced a portfolio of property deeds and several velvet boxes filled with loose diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires, complete with authentication certificates. "Cash these in. It'll be another nine figures, at least."

I placed my hands on my hips, savoring the right to be imperious, a right I'd stolen directly from him. "Use it all to pay off your debts. It should be enough to buy you the right to live, at least."

"...Alright." Grayson's eyes scanned the small mountain of wealth. "What do you want from me?"

I bristled at his tone. It was as if my grand, dramatic rescue was just another one of his manipulative games.

But it didn't matter.

Because showering someone in money felt ridiculously good.

"I'm going to have the tracker removed from my tooth," I said, watching his face carefully. "And then I'm going to have it implanted in you."

Grayson's gaze lifted to meet mine. That one simple look sent a familiar chill down my spine. Some deep, hidden part of my body, conditioned by years of his random "punishments," instinctively braced for danger.

I channeled every memory of his control over me. "From now on, your every move is dictated by me. You will report to me before you go anywhere. All your electronics will share my passwords—no, they'll be logged into my accounts. And you are not, under any circumstances, to be around any other women."

"Oh, and one more thing," I added with precision. "I hate mint toothpaste. Get lemon."

Grayson’s eyes never left my face.

After a long moment, he spoke, his voice slow and unreadable. "You're surprisingly good at this game."

"So," he continued, his tone impossible to decipher, "are you going to punish me... the way I punished you?"

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