She had no answer for him. Hell, she sometimes wished she could. It would make her life easier, that’s for damned sure.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he straightened up and bore his gaze into her. “Sit,” he pointed to the chair.

“I’m not a dog,” she shot back.

Lines of exhaustion creased the hard angles of his face as his hands settled on his hips. He let out another irritated breath, but his tone softened. “Please sit down.”

Tension vibrated each of her nerve endings. She hadn’t expected him to really consider her proposition and now faced with his possible compromise, she wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Although she tried her best to hide her unease, her heart thumped madly as she faced him. Her skin prickled at the edginess radiating from him as she sank into the chair across from him. Standing off, face-to-face, neither spoke for nearly a minute. With his eyes never leaving hers, Victor tapped the pink sheet of paper and drew a lazy circle around her words, challenging her.

Taking his lead, she spoke softly yet with determination. “I’ll do whatever you want…” she reinforced in hopes that her offer would be too good to refuse. “Anything. But this time, the game will be about give and take. For everything you do to me, for every test you put me through, I want something in return.”

A thoughtful frown revealed his worry. “What, exactly, do you want in return?”

It was go time. How would he react? With volatility? Refusal? Would Mr. Black make an appearance? Would he try to impose his rules on her and make her play his fucked up game against her will? Or would Victor prevail and allow them to be on equal ground? She had no idea.

Swallowing loudly and moistening her lips nervously, she stared into his eyes. “Information.”

***

Victor felt a sudden scowl etch onto his hard features and the corners of his mouth twitch. There was no need to ask what kind of information she wanted. He already knew. Ever the nosy little bitch, she was itching to learn about his past. Mr. Black had been waiting in the wings for far too long and he, too, was impatient to have his way with her. How long could Victor suppress that part of himself? Not much; that was clear. But he wanted Elsa and he wanted her submission given freely. Mr. Black, on the other hand, well… he didn’t give a shit about the willing part; he just wanted to push her limits and see her fucking tears.

As he sat contemplating her ultimatum that was less than delicately disguised as a suggestion, he became fixated on her eager eyes. Despite her best efforts at hiding her feelings, passion seeped from her pores and longing shimmered in her eyes, the centers so dark they seemed to gleam like volcanic rock. How apropos, considering her temper was explosive like that of a volcano.

He allowed a mask of indifference to cloud his features to try and make up for his loss of composure only moments earlier. When she attempted to leave him again, panic had caused his cool façade to crumble at his feet. It both irritated and angered him. He hated the affect she had on him.

So, she wanted information. How difficult a task could that be? He could throw all sorts of useless facts about his life at her so long as she kept up her end of the deal by allowing him to do anything he wanted to her. With any luck, this little unforeseen rearrangement of his plans might just work out so that both he and Mr. Black could both come out on top.

Sliding a hand into his pocket, he pulled out his pen and began to scrawl his name onto the pale-rose colored stationary. Just before he dotted the i and crossed the t, he glanced up at Elsa.

“Once you sign it, there’s no going back,” she whispered and shifted in her chair.

She thought she was being cunning by giving him a dose of his own medicine, but her shock was clearly evident. A whiff of her perfume caught him by surprise, inadvertently causing a small smirk to make its way onto his lips. Goddamn, she smelled tasty.

Information. Yeah. Sure. What-the-fuck-ever she wanted so long as he could sink his tongue into her cunt and his cock into her tight asshole without her putting up a fight.

“Would you prefer I sign it in blood?” he mocked, causing her cheeks to flush.

He could be clever, too. Did she think he had forgotten their memorable first encounter at East Grace Street or her words? How could he when everything she had ever spoken to him and the images of her videos were so indelibly etched into his brain?

“The blood will come later,” she narrowed her eyes.

The heated expression on her face and easily readable hatred caused the smile to fade from his mouth. How did he miss that sentiment before? Suddenly, he believed her words. His eyes darted to the piece of paper before him.

Shit.

For a brief instance, he considered shredding it. Just as he reached for it, Elsa snatched it away.

“If you think you can simply back out of this agreement at any point, Mr. Black,” she emphasized the name, and repeated his own words once again. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

A creeping sense of doom filled his gut as he leaned back into the chair and watched her fold the piece of paper and slip it into her bra and against her bare breast.

“Stand and remove all your clothing,” she stated nonchalantly. “It’s time for your physical examination.”

His jaw dropped at her bawdiness. If not for the deadpan look on her face, he would’ve laughed out loud at her ridiculous statement. Quirking an eyebrow at her, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I believe your rules stipulate give and take, Ms. Cassidy, and you haven’t given me anything yet.”

Her eyes darkened. “I’m here aren’t I? Doesn’t that count for anything?”

The statement was true enough and though he did have to give her some credit for that, there was no way in hell he was going to be examined.

“As for not giving you anything, I just gave you my consent to do whatever you want to me,” she doggedly continued.

The lazy heat of desire that glittered in her eyes brought a question to mind: when the game was over, when everything was said and done, who would be the real winner? And more importantly, who would own whom?

So she wanted to examine him, did she? Her suggestion was laughable, but again, what-the-fuck-ever. By the look on her face, she didn’t expect him to follow through.

He would show her.

Without any further delay, he rose and stood before her, delighting in the way her eyes rounded in astonishment. Systematically, he began to strip down in front of her; first by removing his sleeveless, cashmere sweater and dropping it at her feet. Then, his paisley tie, followed by his button down shirt. He paused to allow her to take in the newest addition to his body: a large tattoo that covered the majority of his upper chest, ribcage and upper right arm, and crept over onto his upper back.

He pushed his chest out, taking pride in the way her eyes roamed over the mixture of tribal Samoan and Aztec patterns emblazoned in pitch-black ink. It was the only appropriate shade considering it matched the color of his soul. It had taken him more than a year to get the completed look, taking time in between sessions to allow for healing. What began as a small mark in commemoration of his time with Elsa had turned into an obsession. The pain was so exquisite and demanding of his attention, he took every chance he could to get more ink. On the maddening nights in San Diego when he couldn’t stop thinking about her or work, he would call his go-to-artist and have his skin etched raw for hours.

Next he unbuckled his belt and let his pants pool around his feet as he kicked them to the side.

He slid his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and there it was. The thing he had missed almost as much as the game. Her discomfort. The expression changed into mortification when he tugged them down. All of a sudden, the thrill of the game pulsed through his veins and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. The game just hadn’t been the same without her. Hell, none of the others after her had come anywhere close to giving him this kind of excitement.