These kinds of men have different meanings of ownership. Alexi pauses and looks down into his glass as he swirls the ice, considering my question it seems and slides his drink down on the table between his feet, before pushing it away and returning to a casual pose. ‘’It means exactly what it sounds like … You belong to me and while I own your ass, you live here, work for me, and don’t do anything without my permission. It’s that simple.’’ He gives nothing away with tone or expression and I inhale slowly, trying to calm my internal rattled pounding nerves. I raise both brows this time and give him a look that just says I am not exactly happy with this little statement, blanching at the idea that he thinks he can ask this of me. I don’t care if he saved my bacon—he wants to control me and with nothing to reward me in return. It’s one thing to mark you as off the market for other men if he’s screwing you, but another thing entirely to get a virgin’s life handed to you. ‘’Do you own more than my arse? What about my own needs? What if I want to sample a little playtime?‘’ I gesture to his room, indicating his own little fun waiting in there, annoyed that he thinks he can rule who I fuck even if I don’t have any current toy boys. Who’s to say I won’t take a fancy to one of his clientele? Someone a little more open to me than he seems to be. I will not stop looking at the bigger picture, and if a better deal comes along to get me out of this mess then I will pounce on it. He’s not sounding like the fun I thought he was going to be. ‘‘Not in my apartment, or on my time, which is now all of yours. You can do what you want to do when you are no longer owned by me but in the meantime being mine means exactly that. Until your debt is clear … every single piece of you belongs to me.’’ The way he looks deep into my soul tells me that he isn’t messing around with this. I push down the urge to laugh at his ridiculousness, but instead, I keep my cool adjusting how I am sitting to show more leg and cleavage and plaster on a sexy smile of indifference. Ignoring the tension building in the air and the hint of atmosphere because this is going in a direction I am not happy with. ‘‘You said you don’t want to have sex with me, but yet, it sounds like you’re shelving me as yours regardless. I’m not playing ball! You can’t tell me who I can screw while I am to live a celibate life in a room next to you banging God knows who.’’ Anger erupts, even though I am trying to keep my cool, and the edge to my snappy tone makes him narrow his gaze on me. He seems to instantly become a lot more intimidating with practically zero change in his face. ‘’Yes, I can. In this business what you do reflects on me. You’re being given responsibility and access to powerful people and who you fuck means a hell of a lot more than you realise. Keep your panties up and your legs closed, or I will show you a side of me you won’t like.’’ It’s a veiled threat all right. Calm, cold and precise. He’s not playing around, but my inner fire is not about to go down without a fight. I hate people thinking they can control me in any way. I didn’t fight my way out of England and run thousands of miles to go back to that life, and I sure as hell didn’t scrape by on the streets to get myself a new master and pimp. He ignites my fiery rage and my body instantly pinks up with the way my blood boils to the surface of my very pale skin. I have a redheads colouring, even with a scattering of freckles, and I hate that when I get mad it’s literally visible on every part of me. ‘’I sell sex yet I’m not allowed to have any. I’m not a fucking nun.’’ I snap at him loudly and uncross my legs as I slam my glass on the table too. ‘’No, you’re not. You’re Alexi Carrero’s property and that means something. Get used to the idea, it’s not changing anytime soon, it’s not negotiable in any way shape or form. Let’s call it small print in your Fifty-grand contract.’’ That smart arse tone and the way he looks at me like a smug prick makes me want to bash him in the face with his bloody glass.