I blink, unsure I'm seeing this correctly. Jino—my cousin, my consigliere—is running bathwater for my submissive after I explicitly ordered her to self soothe.
Never mind that it was my job and I didn’t do it. Iorderedher to self soothe.
"Aftercare," Jino explains, pouring water over my sub’s body like it belongs to him. "It's mandatory after such a difficult day."
He has no right. I zoom in on Emmaleen's face as she processes what he's telling her. It's confusion, then… is that relief?
"Giovanni didn't put you to bed properly," Jino continues. He reaches for the bar of industrial soap. "Or you would be clean and dressed."
The muscles in my jaw clench so hard I feel my teeth might crack.Didn't put her to bed properly?He dares to critique my decisions in front of her?
I watch, paralyzed with disbelief, as Jino's fucking hands—bare fucking hands—slick with soap, begin to glide over skin that doesn't belong to him. Over breasts that aren't his to touch. Between thighs where his hands have no right to be.
His movements aren't clinical. They're attentive. Deliberate. The kind of touch designed to leave an impression.
The kind of touch reserved for a king.
The audio catches her breathing change—quickening, then catching. Her body responding to him. To his hands. To his attention.
"It's okay," Jino says, his voice much too gentle. "It's normal."
Normal?
He's betraying me and he has the nerve to tell her this isnormal?
"I'm not supposed to be touching you like this," he continues, outright caressing her seductively now, and I nearly come undone. I nearly rip the whole bank of monitors off the wall and throw them across the room. "But this is what Giovanni gets when he ignores basic protocols."
His thumbs slide over her nipples, making them rise up into tight peaks. Emmaleen grunts, like she's biting back a whimper of pleasure.
"If Giovanni is too caught up in his own head to deliver your well-earned aftercare," Jino continues, twisting the fucking knife in my back as he slides his fingers between her legs, "then I'll handle it myself."
What. The fuck. Is happening here?
I rewind. Play it again. Her small gasp when his fingers brush between her legs. The way her head falls back slightly. The fuckingsurrenderin her posture.
My cousin is seducing my fucking sub!
It's… unheard of. A complete betrayal of my trust.
"Keep your eyes closed," Jino whispers to Emmaleen. "Just experience the sensations."
He doesn't even bother pretending now. He is fully arousing my sub on purpose. He pleasures her between her legs. He massages her large, firm breasts. He makes her bite her lip, and blush, and moan, and whimper and I cannot believe what I’m fucking seeing.
"Why do you keep touching me like that?" Emmaleen's question is dripping with want. Like she's about to come.
He starts washing her hair, smiling a little when he responds. "To make you love me. To confuse your brain so you see your Master as love, not pain."
Your Master as love?
No, Jino.No. Her King. Me!Me! I am her love! Not you!
"If you were my sub, I'd be fucking you slowly tonight. Telling you sweet things. I'd make you come many times to take away the sting of the day."
I miss what comes next—my mind shooting off into some alternate version of outer space where the vacuum is filled with rage. But then I hear my name again. "Giovanni is using it in all the wrong ways."
Nothing about my ways are wrong. That's the point of being the fucking King! I'm always right!
"Stand up." I glance at the screen again. Jino is helping Emmaleen out of the tub. She takes his hand—is she… is she looking at him with…desire?