and stills, focusing on her, not wa一vering in the slightest. He
glares at her with an intensity I ha一ve not seen before, his
eyes wild, wide, angry, and scared.
Oh no . . . oh no.
Leila’s eyes widen, and for a moment, it seems her
reason returns. She blinks rapidly while her hand tightens
once more around the gun.
My breath catches in my throat, and my heart starts
thumping so loud that I hear the blood pounding in my
ears. No, no, no!
My world teeters precariously in the hands of this
My world teeters precariously in the hands of this
poor, fucked-up woman. Will she shoot? Both of us?
Christian? The thought is crippling.
But after an eternity, as time hangs suspended around
us, her head dips slightly and she gazes up at him, through
her long lashes, her expression contrite.
Christian holds up his hand, signaling to Taylor to stay
where he is. Taylor’s blanched face betrays his fury. I ha一ve
never seen him like this, but he stands stock-still as
Christian and Leila stare at each other.
I realize I’m holding my breath. What will she do?
What will he do? But they just continue to stare at each
other. Christian’s expression is raw, full of some unnamed
emotion. It could be pity, fear, affection . . . or is it love?
No, please, not love!
His eyes bore into her, and agonizingly slowly, the
atmosphere in the apartment changes. The tension is
building so that I can sense their connection, the charge
between them.
No! Suddenly I feel I’m the interloper, intruding on
them as they stand gazing at each other. I’m an outsider—
a voyeur, spying on a forbidden, intimate scene behind
closed curtains.
Christian’s intense gaze burns brighter, and his bearing
changes sub一tly. He looks taller, more angular somehow,
colder, and more distant. I recognize this stance. I’ve seen
him like this before—in his playroom.
My scalp prickles anew. This is Dominant Christian,
and how at ease he looks. Whether he was born to or
made for this role, I just don’t know, but with a sinking
heart and sic
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