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hours? What kind of person had I become? Gage would know. There was no way I could hide this from him.  
    “I’d never force you . . . this isn’t like me.”
    I wanted to say it wasn’t like me either, but I guess there wasn’t much I hadn’t done now, thanks to the man who’d placed metaphorical shackles around my ankles.  
    He looked up, and his eyes were brighter than usual. “Please, say something. God, I hate that I made you cry.”
    And that did me in. I fell to my knees and let him pull me against him. I let it all go—the confusion, guilt, and fear. It’d been a long time since someone cared. Of course, that only made me cry harder, but I did it in the shelter of his embrace, and a small part of me pieced itself back together again.

11. F O U R ' S A C R O W D
    Going to work made me a nervous wreck, and it didn’t help my mental state when I couldn’t find my journal. That was just what I needed—punishment to compound punishment. I went through the normal morning ritual of placing his coffee on the desk, and then pulled out my iPad. I couldn’t meet Gage’s eyes as he delegated the morning tasks. I avoided him as much as possible until lunchtime, when he called me into his office.  
    “Lock the door.”
    I obeyed and stood before him, eyes downcast, feeling as if my disobedience was a flashing sign on my forehead; withholding this from him all morning was eating me alive.  
    I have to tell him . . .
    “Is something wrong?” he asked.
    I nodded. “I need to tell you something, Master, but I’d rather not tell you here. Can I come to your place tonight?”
    He tapped his fingers on the desk, and when I found the courage to face him, his eyes had darkened to indigo. “Why don’t we just get this over with now? Your punishment can wait until tonight, but you need to be upfront with me.”
    I bit my lip. “You’re going to be angry.”  
    “Angry doesn’t describe it, Kayla.” His mouth flattened into an unforgiving line. “You forgot your journal at my house last night. I drove to your place to drop it off.”
    My body went cold, and I folded myself into my arms, as if I could simply disappear into them. “You saw?”
    “I expect you on my doorstep at nine. In the meantime, you need to get out of here before I explode.”
    I scampered from his office, making myself scarce for the rest of the day. That evening I spent as much time as possible at the hospital, playing a memory card game with Eve. The only bright point in my day was how much healthier she looked. I kissed her goodnight and left shortly after eight-thirty. I wasn’t about to arrive at Gage’s a second late.  
    The instant he opened the door, I threw myself at his feet. “Please, Master, forgive me.” I planted my sweaty palms on the floor and studied the varying colors in the hardwood. Several seconds ticked by—seconds that seemed more like minutes. I held my breath and counted every beat of my heart.  
    “Look at me.”  
    I raised my head. Tears spilled over, and no amount of willpower would stop them. Dread roiled in my stomach, and I knew with absolute certainty I wouldn’t get a smidgeon of mercy from him.  
    “Did you have sex with him?”
    “No, Master.”
    He narrowed his eyes. “But you wanted to.”  
    I paused at his tone; he sounded much too confident. “Yes, Master.”  
    “Get up.”  
    I scrambled to my feet, limbs shaking, and bowed my head. “I’m sorry, Master. Please forgive me.”  
    He grabbed my hand. “Come.”  
    “Are you going to punish me, Master?” Stupid question. Punishment was inevitable; it was the way in which he planned to carry it out that worried me.
    “Yes.” He was too calm. He’d shown more reaction at innocent things, like when Tom had asked me out at work, or even when the waiter had smiled at me. Gage’s cool demeanor was more terrifying than his rage. I wanted to turn and bolt for the door, but entertaining the notion of escape was an impossible