He shakes his head. “You’re a natural submissive, Novalee. It’s written in your body language. Even your resistance is a performance, because what you really crave is surrender.”

“You don’t know what I crave.”

“Are you sure about that? You’ve been broadcasting it since you stepped into this house.”

I grip the edge of the table, my nails biting into the wood. He’s channeling Dr. Price with that know-it-all tone.

“You should embrace it,” he adds, his gaze drilling into me.

There’s an unnamed agenda buried in his stare, settling low in my belly, uncomfortable but not entirely…unpleasant.

Suddenly, that locked door flashes through my mind.

“Embrace what, exactly?”

Without answering, he smooths his expression into polished stone, his mouth hardening into a stubborn line.

He’s said too much.

As the realization sinks in, Oliver lifts his napkin and dabs the corner of my mouth, wiping away a smear of yogurt. His fingers graze my skin a fraction too long, and a jolt sparks through my system.

Our eyes meet and hold.

Something charged passes between us.

Then he drops the napkin onto the table and utters six words that tilt my world off its axis.

“We’ve been summoned to the dungeon.”

“When?” I manage, my voice a thin squeak as my heart bottoms out.

“As soon as we’re finished here.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask who issued the summons, but I already know. Mr. Stone made it clear at dinner the other night.

“Will Liam be there?”

“I don’t know.”

Another lie. He knows.

Of course Liam will be there. All of them will, the men who decide my fate behind closed doors, dangling their power like a noose around my neck. Some will watch in silence, while others will wait for the right moment to tighten the rope.

And Oliver?

I have no idea where he stands.

Acid rises in my throat, threatening to purge what I ate, and I gulp it down, even as I lift my chin.

“What do they want?” Forced bravado colors my tone. I hope he doesn’t notice how my knees are trembling under the table.

“I think you already know what they want, Novalee.”

“This isn’t fair.”

“Fair or not, we have to go.” He stands, chair legs scraping across the hardwood, dragging dread in his wake.

I fold my arms. “You could have given me more warning.”

“I was just informed this morning.” He hesitates a beat. “I wanted you to finish breakfast first. Liam said you haven’t been eating.”

“Well now it’s about to come back up.”

“If you need to puke, you should do it now.” He pulls me upright. “Making them wait would be a mistake.”

The warning is clear.

Resisting is futile, but I do it anyway, rebellious feet rooted to the spot.