She tried to bring her arms down, but his hand tightened on her wrists, holding her in place. A glimmer of fear flickered to life inside her.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t hide anything.”

He shook his head, a cynical glint in his eye. “Last chance, babe,” he said, and something in her cringed. He never called her babe. He called her fofa, and sometimes baby, but never babe. He said it now with a mocking kind of sneer, distorting the endearment so it held no hint of affection. It made the hair on her arms stand up, and her heart began to pound.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, keeping her voice steady with effort. She yanked her arms, twisting to try to escape his grip, but he just leaned his weight into her.

“Okay,” he sighed, disappointed and resigned. “Just remember, you brought this on yourself.”

“What—” she started to say, then jerked when three men in masks walked into the bedroom.

She recoiled, a scream caught in her throat. Part of her realized this was a game, a scene that Cade had obviously arranged. They’d talked about this particular fantasy at length, going over what she wanted and didn’t want out of its enactment. She’d told him she didn’t want to be able to tell who they were, and she couldn’t.

They were dressed identically in black jeans, black boots, and long-sleeved black T-shirts. Black gloves, the kind her hairdresser wore while doing a color job, covered their hands. They wore black hoods, and their faces were covered by skeleton masks.

It was like having the grim reaper times three staring down at her, and her scream ripped loose.

Cade slapped a hand over her mouth, cutting off the sound almost immediately. She began to thrash under him, twisting her body and pulling at her arms to try to get free. He held her down easily, one hand on her wrists and the other over her mouth, his weight pushing her into the mattress. He spared her one exasperated, head-shaking glance, like she was disappointing him somehow, then turned to the men.

“You search the house?” he asked, and his voice was so cold she shivered.

The biggest of the three men nodded. “Nothing,” he said, voice muffled by the mask. “She tell you?”

Cade shook his head while she struggled beneath him. “She’s playing innocent.”

One of the other men, leaner than the others, snorted. “Thought you were the great seducer, bruv,” he said, his Cockney accent so thick she could barely understand him. “You losing your touch?”

“Fuck you,” Cade said mildly. “You bring the stuff?”

“We got it,” the big one answered with a nod. “How d’you wanna do this?”

“Tape,” Cade said, and Big produced a roll of duct tape. He ripped off a length, handed the roll to Cockney, and stepped up to the bed.