be bad, considering she couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sure you have things you need to do,” she said. “I can pack for myself. I’ll take a cab back to your place.”
“Open it.”
It wasn’t a request, but a command. Molly sighed and bent over the lock while Mephisto stared down at the bruises on the back of her neck. They were worst there, since she’d pulled and tugged the collar forward, God knew for how long. Since she’d decided it was shameful and disgusting to be a slave, he supposed. There was no guarantee she wouldn’t feel that way again a few hours from now. Tomorrow. Next week. But he’d do what he could to keep that from happening.
The door swung open and Mephisto braced for the mess he expected to find. It was so much worse. He said nothing, only moved into the foyer, studying the trashed living room and the ruined carpet. Mysterious stains decorated the walls.
“I...I might have hosted a few parties.”
“I see that.”
“I’ll clean it up.”
He wandered toward the kitchen. The smell hit him long before he got there. Broken dishware littered the floor, and the refrigerator hung open displaying an array of rotting items. In the dining room, a priceless crystal chandelier listed sideways, half torn from the ceiling. Exposed wires stuck out from the base. “Honestly, at this point, it would be best to hire a service to come take care of the cleaning.” He sniffed and breathed through his nose. “A service that handles hazardous waste.”
How had she been living here in these ruins? She looked around in shock like someone else must have done this. Perhaps she hadn’t been sober since the last party. A sobering—pun intended—thought.
“I suppose we have to go to the bedroom to pack your clothes,” he said. “Although I’m a little afraid of what I’ll find.”
The bedroom was ransacked too. “Who was here?” he asked. “Friends of yours?” Molly shrugged as he crossed to her dressing room and lifted the lid of her jewelry box. Empty. “They stole from you.”
“They weren’t really my friends.”
All the jewelry and gifts Clayton had bought his pretty princess. Gone. Mephisto felt rage for a moment, at her “friends,” at Molly for being so spoiled and careless, but in a way it was natural consequences. He shut the lid of the box and turned to her. “Okay. Suitcases. Clothes. Whatever you need to bring to my place.”
She started to pack, looking a little shell-shocked.
Let her be shell-shocked. She should be. He certainly was. She didn’t pack much, and then he went around the house with her picking up anything of value that was left. “Where is the violin?” he asked.
Molly flinched, and then she lied to his face. “I don’t know.”
His expression hardened. “Lies are not okay with me. Ever.”
Molly went back into the bedroom and knelt beside the bed. She stuck her hands underneath and pulled out an open case. The velvet inside was damaged. So was the violin. Strings stuck out every which way and part of the body was crushed.
“I tried to smash it.” She buried her face in her hands. “I tried to destroy it.”
Mephisto wasn’t angry at anything anymore, just really sad for her. “Why?”
“Because I hated it. Because I was never good enough.” She looked over at him, her eyes windows to the pain inside her. “This is your fault.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Did I smash it?”
“No. You brought it into my life.”
You brought
him
into my life.
That was what Mephisto heard. He leaned over her, closed the violin case and stowed it under his arm. “We’ll try to get it repaired. I’ll ask around and see if it’s possible.” He started out of the room, only to stop by the door. He nudged a half-burned box, turning it over. Shards of singed leather tumbled out, along with a very recognizable chastity shield and buckle. He turned to Molly, one eyebrow raised.
She shifted on her feet. “I tried to burn it...after I shredded it with
“Open it.”
It wasn’t a request, but a command. Molly sighed and bent over the lock while Mephisto stared down at the bruises on the back of her neck. They were worst there, since she’d pulled and tugged the collar forward, God knew for how long. Since she’d decided it was shameful and disgusting to be a slave, he supposed. There was no guarantee she wouldn’t feel that way again a few hours from now. Tomorrow. Next week. But he’d do what he could to keep that from happening.
The door swung open and Mephisto braced for the mess he expected to find. It was so much worse. He said nothing, only moved into the foyer, studying the trashed living room and the ruined carpet. Mysterious stains decorated the walls.
“I...I might have hosted a few parties.”
“I see that.”
“I’ll clean it up.”
He wandered toward the kitchen. The smell hit him long before he got there. Broken dishware littered the floor, and the refrigerator hung open displaying an array of rotting items. In the dining room, a priceless crystal chandelier listed sideways, half torn from the ceiling. Exposed wires stuck out from the base. “Honestly, at this point, it would be best to hire a service to come take care of the cleaning.” He sniffed and breathed through his nose. “A service that handles hazardous waste.”
How had she been living here in these ruins? She looked around in shock like someone else must have done this. Perhaps she hadn’t been sober since the last party. A sobering—pun intended—thought.
“I suppose we have to go to the bedroom to pack your clothes,” he said. “Although I’m a little afraid of what I’ll find.”
The bedroom was ransacked too. “Who was here?” he asked. “Friends of yours?” Molly shrugged as he crossed to her dressing room and lifted the lid of her jewelry box. Empty. “They stole from you.”
“They weren’t really my friends.”
All the jewelry and gifts Clayton had bought his pretty princess. Gone. Mephisto felt rage for a moment, at her “friends,” at Molly for being so spoiled and careless, but in a way it was natural consequences. He shut the lid of the box and turned to her. “Okay. Suitcases. Clothes. Whatever you need to bring to my place.”
She started to pack, looking a little shell-shocked.
Let her be shell-shocked. She should be. He certainly was. She didn’t pack much, and then he went around the house with her picking up anything of value that was left. “Where is the violin?” he asked.
Molly flinched, and then she lied to his face. “I don’t know.”
His expression hardened. “Lies are not okay with me. Ever.”
Molly went back into the bedroom and knelt beside the bed. She stuck her hands underneath and pulled out an open case. The velvet inside was damaged. So was the violin. Strings stuck out every which way and part of the body was crushed.
“I tried to smash it.” She buried her face in her hands. “I tried to destroy it.”
Mephisto wasn’t angry at anything anymore, just really sad for her. “Why?”
“Because I hated it. Because I was never good enough.” She looked over at him, her eyes windows to the pain inside her. “This is your fault.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Did I smash it?”
“No. You brought it into my life.”
You brought
him
into my life.
That was what Mephisto heard. He leaned over her, closed the violin case and stowed it under his arm. “We’ll try to get it repaired. I’ll ask around and see if it’s possible.” He started out of the room, only to stop by the door. He nudged a half-burned box, turning it over. Shards of singed leather tumbled out, along with a very recognizable chastity shield and buckle. He turned to Molly, one eyebrow raised.
She shifted on her feet. “I tried to burn it...after I shredded it with
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