Page 28 of The Toy Collector

Rafe’s voice is steady, professional. “Your résumé mentions that you want to be in the room where decisions are made. What do you believe is the most effective way to influence policy in today’s political landscape?”

I sit straighter. “Policy is shaped long before it ever reaches a public vote. True influence happens behind closed doors—through lobbying, media control, and agenda-setting. Voters see what we want them to see, and it’s the job of political strategists to ensure the right narrative is pushed forward.”

A pause. I hear the soft shuffle of fabric. A quiet exhale followed by low murmuring. I strain my ears, but I can’t hear what’s being said. Did I surprise them? I can’t tell. The pause stretches, taut with judgment, pressing against my skin like unseen hands.

“And you believe voters are that easily swayed?” It’s another man asking the follow-up question. His voice is smoother, sharper.

I nod. “I do, Mr… umm… sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” I inwardly cringe for sounding so unpolished.

“Matteo,” he helpfully supplies.

“Public perception is a science, Matteo.” I pause briefly. “The right headline, the right scandal, the right savior at the right time—it’s all about timing.”

Rafe speaks again. “That’s a cynical take.”

“It’s a realistic one,” I counter. “Change doesn’t come from wishful thinking. It comes from control.” The more I talk, the more my confidence soars. I’ve got this.

He hums, considering. “It seems you focus heavily on public perception. What about raw political power? Do you see yourself as the kind of strategist who plays kingmaker, or are you interested in holding office yourself?”

I hesitate, then shake my head. “I don’t want to be the face. The mind behind it is where I want to be. The person who builds the leaders, not the one shaking hands in front of a camera.”

He leans forward slightly, at least I think he does. When he talks again, he sounds closer. “And if you had to choose between winning by playing fair or winning by any means necessary?”

It’s a trap. I know it. But the answer is easy. “Winning is the only thing that matters,” I say, my voice unwavering.

A pause. I think I’ve impressed them. Then Matteo exhales softly, as if amused. “You speak like someone who understands the game, Miss Harrington.”

I steel myself. “I do.”

Then, just as I start to feel steady, as if I’ve passed some kind of unspoken test, another voice enters the mix—low, smooth, dripping with amusement.

“Tell me, Piper,” he drawls. “Do you touch yourself at night?”

My head snaps in the direction I think the question came from. “W-what?” I gasp. No, I must have misheard him. “Can you please repeat—”

“No,” he interrupts coldly. “A simple yes or no will suffice.”

Heat creeps along my cheeks. I inhale deeply, then I slowly shake my head. There’s no point in pretending to consider whether I’m going to answer or not. Of course I am. I’ve come this far, with everything to lose.

My mind reels. I’m a scholar, not a seductress. Desperation is a powerful motivator, and since I’m here to claim my future, I can be whatever he wants me to be.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Yes,” I whisper, hating myself for it. “Sometimes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth—but there’s a darkness under it that makes my stomach twist and my thighs clench. “Such a perfect toy.”

Oh, God. The way my body is responding is downright indecent. Those two words—hoarse and reverent—make me slick with want. Heat pools between my thighs, and I hate myself for how fast I go soft for praise.

The atmosphere thickens, humming with something primal. It coils around me, a presence more felt than seen, one that makes my skin prickle.

“Stand up,” he commands, smooth, effortless, like he already knows I’ll obey.

My body tenses at the unspoken challenge lacing his tone.

“Is there a problem?” Rafe asks. “A woman who understands the game must also be comfortable with high-stakes decisions.”

My heartbeat pounds in my ears. Shaking my head, I stand, ignoring the way my legs threaten to buckle under my weight.

“Now strip,” the third man demands.

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