Page 33 of The Toy Collector

My body obeys him faster than my brain can argue, and that fucking infuriates me. Then I realize what he’s doing; he’s dressing me. And suddenly, I’m glad I didn’t hesitate. If I had, I might’ve said something stupid.

I tilt my head to the side. “What now?” I ask, forcing the words to sound stronger than I feel.

“Now, I’ll escort you to the lobby. Then, your paperwork will be filed, and your advisor notified,” he replies, sounding like he’s checking things off his to-do list. Yet, his deep voice still manages to make it sound sexy.

“Okay,” I manage.

“Are you ready for your life to change, Toy?” The question makes me shiver, and causes goosebumps to erupt all over my skin.

He really needs to stop asking me that. I’m not ready for anything, I’m just really fucking good at pretending. “Sure,” I answer, hoping he can’t hear how hard I’m faking it.

He links his arm with mine and leads me out of the room.

The further we walk, the more sounds I hear; people talking, footsteps echoing. But none of it registers. I’m too focused on the man who just fingered me. It feels surreal… and so fucking hot I hate myself for it.

“Here we are,” he suddenly says, bringing us to a stop. “Miss Wilson will be here shortly. She’ll give you back your handbag and blazer. She’ll also arrange for someone to drive you home.”

I don’t even question how he knew I was wearing a blazer when I arrived. “Wait,” I beg, digging my fingers into his arm. “If I’m to work for you, shouldn’t I know your name?”

He chuckles darkly. “Why would you need to know that already?”

I gape, lips parted, something sharp stuck in my throat that I can’t name. It’s not a protest or surrender. It’s worse than both—Iwantto know.

Chapter 13

Lorenzo

Ionly linger long enough to watch Maria approach my toy and peel off her blindfold before returning her belongings. I grin to myself as I watch the way Piper’s mouth runs a million miles a minute. Judging by Maria’s pinched expression, she’s not enjoying the barrage of questions.

A low chuckle slips out as I step into the waiting elevator, the doors closing on her questions and Maria’s thinning patience.

Since I already know my assistant will make sure the driver takes Piper straight home, I don’t need to wait around. It’s not my personal driver, but someone who has been with me for long enough.

As soon as I’m in my office, I reach for my tablet and send the draft email to Mrs. Ellis at Georgetown, letting her know that one Miss Piper Harrington has landed a very prestigious internship.

Waiting beside my tablet is a new phone. A single folded note rests on top.

Tracker placed. Here’s the clone.

Cy’s handwriting is sharp,efficient. Just like his work.

I power on the phone, and the screen glows to life. Every ping, every text, call, and move she makes will all be mirrored here. All without her knowledge.

With that out of the way, I pull up the surveillance feed from her apartment. I want to see the moment she arrives home—whether she’ll flinch after what she allowed at the interview… or if she’ll wear it like power.

Checking the camera in her living room, my eyes fall on the almost-bare wall. I considered hanging the puzzle of her face there. Even incomplete, it would have looked exquisite—haunting in the right light. But I decided against it. My toy’s not ready for that.

Instead, it hangs in my office. The original print, the one I designed for her. Full-color, her face rendered in shadow and light, framed in black like an icon behind glass. Eight pieces are missing; the ones I gifted her. And now the image gapes with that absence.

Of course, I could order a new batch, cut to the exact same shape, black as night and sharp at the corners. I could slot them in tonight and call it whole. But it wouldn’t be the same.

Those pieces—her pieces—were never just cardboard. They were part ofourbeginning, and she burned them like they meant nothing. Replacing them would be a lie. It would be a rewrite of history.

She doesn’t understand that I only gave her pieces of the shadow. That was my way of easing her into it, as I didn’t think she’d appreciate getting pieces of her face. No doubt that would have sent the wrong message.

My toy shouldn’t fear me, only want me—and, eventually, love me back.

She should be home by now. I refresh the app, but there’s still no sign of her. My jaw clenches. If there’s a delay, my men should have informed me. The second she arrives, I need to see her.

---