Page 18 of Caging Liberty
“I’m glad you find this amusing.”
“Are you sure she doesn’t recognize you? Maybe she’s pissed that her husband pimped her out.”
He shakes his head. “She doesn’t know about that.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because the second she had a chance, she ran screaming for help and asked Joseph Castor to call her husband. I’m pretty sure if she recognized me, she would’ve mentioned it. I met her briefly once, what, four years ago?”
“Five,” I correct. “It was when we first started business with Gaumond.”
Sawyer waves this off like it doesn’t make a difference, which is true. “The point is, she’s not acclimating, and I’m done wasting my energy on her. If you want her, take her. But I don’t want her at the manor anymore.”
I look at the screen again and consider it for a second before dismissing the idea. “You know it’s against the rules for me to have my own slave.”
“Yeah, well, los que hacen las algunos, or whatever the hell you say.”
“It’slos que hacen las reglas hacen las lagunas, but close.”Those who make the rules, make the loopholes.
One side of my lips lift in an amused smile that Sawyer doesn’t return.
“Give me a chance with her,” I say, going back to the screen. “Maybe she needs a gentler touch.”
His eyes narrow. “You never want anything to do with the new whores.”
I shrug. “I like a challenge too.”
“I’m the king of ‘good cop, bad cop,’ Angel. It’s not going to work.”
“Maybe because you play it with your two personalities.”
He sways his head like he’s considering my words, then nods. “Okay, that’s probably fair. But it still won’t work on this girl.”
I give one last look at the screen before backpedaling a few steps and glancing at Sawyer. “We’ll see.”
As I leave Sawyer’s office, he throws a sarcastic “good luck” at my back. I stop in the kitchen and grab a granola bar to tuck into my slacks’ pocket. I just got back to the island an hour ago and haven’t changed out of my suit. I prefer it that way, though. Sawyer is the one who’s into the relaxed, beach-life look.
As humorous as I find his inability to tame Lib, I’m annoyed with him. I fully anticipated her being acclimated once I got back, and I’ve been looking forward to it all week. Actually, I’ve been looking forward to it for five years.
I suppose I can be patient a little longer.
I get to the cellar door and roll my neck, forcing out all expectations of what’s about to go down.
She could recognize me. That thought has occurred to me before, but I didn’t think much of it then. She was supposed to be an obedient whore the first time I saw her here, so what the hell would it matter if she recognized me? But now it does. It could make things worse. Or it could make things better. I’m not sure.
It might not matter. Like Sawyer said, it’s been five years. It’s highly possible I didn’t make the same lasting impression on her that she made on me.
Only one way to find out.
I unlatch the cellar door and gently pull it open before making my way down the wooden stairs. When I step onto concrete, I look into the cell and find Lib’s eyes. She stares me down like she’s sizing me up for a fight as I slowly walk to stand in front of the cell. My lips are drawn into a frown although inside I’m smiling.
Five years, and I’m finally standing in front of Lib, with her at my complete mercy. A shiver travels down my spine, but I don’t let any of the excitement show on my face.
She’s caked in dust and grime right now, but she’s still the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. I could kiss her right now... Fuck her right here on the concrete and it would be just as good as any bed.
That’s not an option yet.
I force my thoughts to center and stare at her as if she’s any other girl. “Hello,” I say, ensuring that the disapproving frown on my face remains.