CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

~ Camilla

The paper hit the desk with a sharp slap, my hand stinging from the force.

Stephano barely flinched. "A contract," he said smoothly, like he was offering me a glass of wine instead of a goddamn sex slave agreement.

I stared at him, heart hammering. "No. It's a fucking prostitution contract. Dressed up in fancy fonts."

He tilted his head, studying me like I was amusing. "Prostitution implies choice."

His voice dropped a little lower. "This... is ownership."

I sucked in a breath.

"You want me to be your on-call whore? What’s next, Stephano? A collar with your initials on it? Maybe a leash, so you...