In a drunken moment of twin-bonding and secret-telling, Leo had confessed his own alternative sexual leanings—a choice which in hindsight may have been a mistake, given the way his brother’s mind operated.

Leo had had a few long-term kinky relationships. They’d gone okay, and they’d ended without much trouble, but the thing he wanted was the thing he’d never been able to have: a true slave.

Could he do the things he fantasized about? It was one thing to wank to it; it was another to do it. She was a living, breathing human being. Frightened. Losing everything in her life. Could he be that callous and cold? Did he have a strong enough moral leash to stop himself?

Angelo’s words echoed in his mind: What you do with her once you get her is up to you.

Easier said than done. Once she was in his care, dependent on him and vulnerable, would he be able to resist training her? Taking her? He doubted he had such saintly self-control. Going to his brother’s home guaranteed he’d become as amoral as Angelo. But if he didn’t show up, she’d be in the harbor before dawn.

* * *

Angelo opened the door on the first knock and Leo stepped inside. Chaos greeted him: a broken vase, smashed bottles on the floor, upturned tables. In the midst of the maelstrom, sat the girl in a white bathrobe, bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Bruises were forming at various points on exposed flesh, while blood dripped onto a towel from her feet.

“For God’s sake, Ange, what did you do to her?”

Her head jerked in the direction of his voice, and a sharp pain jabbed at his chest. Even so, seeing her bound state aroused him. It shouldn’t, but it did. How could he go through with this? His brother had backed him into a corner, and a part of him wished Angelo had killed the girl without Leo ever knowing of her.

Angelo shrugged. “She struggled. I almost thought, ‘to hell with it’, and killed her, but I knew you’d be upset. Look her over, see if you want her. Makes no difference to me one way or the other.”

Of course it didn’t.

Leo sat beside her. Her hair was a brilliant red, his favorite. He couldn’t stop himself from running his fingers through it. It was still damp and must be even more vibrant dry. She shrank from his hand and whimpered.

“Shhh. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Was he going to hurt her? He didn’t know yet. Everything inside him laughed in triumph at what he had. A real slave. A woman at his complete mercy. And yet, he hadn’t taken her from her life. His brother had orchestrated the scenario so Leo could play the hero, rescuing her from certain death.

“Did you or Davide touch her inappropriately?”

“Of course not. She’s got the wrong parts for our taste.”

But not for mine. His fingers itched to stroke every inch of her, to feel her surrender beneath him.