At his feet, Analise waited for the blow. Most of the time, it never came. But she couldn’t tell. It was better to fear it, to brace for it, than to be surprised. It never occurred to her to run. Even when he told her to.

Knowing she waited for the blow, he held off. She made him look like a fool, altering his theories and changing his words. It didn’t matter that he forced her to write for him, that he hadn’t written a paper on his own in nearly a decade. All that mattered was that she laughed at him when he wasn’t around. She thought him beneath her, that she was smarter than he. After tonight, he’d show her the painful truth. Looming above her, he lifted his foot as though to crush her beneath its tread.

“Leave! Go find someone else who will take care of you. Who’ll let you play scholar, let you live off of his reputation.”

She didn’t protest that it was he who lived off her. She’d forgotten. Instead, she felt the slippery mix of guilt and gratitude. He’d given her a home. A life. He was her only friend. All he asked in return was a little help now and then. How dare she complain?

He could see the contrition, the confusion. He would use it.

“I’m the only one who gives a damn about you, Analise.” He smiled at her gently, lovingly. He helped her to her feet, cradled her against him. Forcing her face against his throat, where he knew the cologne was the strongest.

The sneeze caught her unawares. Angrily, he thrust her away from him, and she tripped over the fallen chair. Her elbow cracked against the steel base, shards of pain radiating up from the bone. Why was she so clumsy? From the ground, she whimpered, “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t be so sensitive.” Rubbing at her nose, at her arm, she begged for forgiveness. “I won’t do it again.”

“You’re clumsy and thoughtless, Analise. That’s why no one else loves you.” Once more, he drew her to her feet. He shook her and tossed her onto the leather sofa. Grabbing at her, he dug cruel fingers into her arms. The slender bones shifted beneath the silken skin she wouldn’t allow him to touch. “Who else would love you but me?”

“No one,” she whimpered, trying not to upset him. “You’re the only one who loves me.”