The water in the walk-in shower was piping hot, nearly scalding my skin, but I didn't turn it down. I stood under the rainfall showerhead, letting the steam fill the marble room until I could barely see my own reflection. I wanted to scrub the scent of the Azure Hotel off my skin. I wanted to wash away the feeling of Silas's thumb against my jaw.
But no matter how much soap I used, I could still feel the phantom heat of his touch.
I stepped out, the floor tiles heated beneath my bare feet. Everything in this house was designed for comfort, yet I had never felt more uneasy. On the counter lay the deep, blood-red silk robe Silas had handed me. It felt like liquid fire against my skin as I slipped it on. The silk was thin—dangerously thin—clinging to every curve. It had no buttons, only a sash that I tied tightly around my waist, my hands trembling.
I looked in the mirror. The woman staring back didn't look like Elena, the girl who worked two jobs to keep her father's head above water. She looked like a prize. A possession.
Twenty minutes, he had said.
I didn't want to know what happened to people who made the "Viper" wait.
I stepped out of the bedroom and into the silent hallway. The mansion felt like a labyrinth of shadows and expensive art. I found the study at the end of the wing, the heavy double doors slightly ajar. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the wood.
"Enter, Elena."
His voice was like a physical pull. I pushed the doors open.
The study was a shrine to power. Bookshelves climbed to the vaulted ceiling, and a massive mahogany desk sat positioned like a throne. Silas was sitting behind it, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He hadn't changed, but he looked even more lethal in the low light.
A small dining table had been set near the fireplace, flickering with a low flame.
"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the chair opposite his.
I walked over, the silk of the robe whispering against my legs. As I sat, I realized the table was set with silver and crystal that probably cost more than my father's entire house. Silas stood up and walked toward me. He didn't sit down; he stood behind me, his presence looming like a storm cloud.
He reached down, his fingers brushing the back of my neck as he moved my hair to one side. I shivered, my breath hitching in my throat.
"You look better in red than I imagined," he murmured, his voice vibrating against the shell of my ear. "It suits a woman who has just been bought."
"I wasn't bought," I snapped, trying to find a spark of my old spirit. "I made a deal to save my father."
Silas walked around the table, finally sitting across from me. He took a slow sip of his drink, his silver eyes never leaving mine. "In my world, Elena, there is no difference.
You are here because I paid the price for you. That makes you mine."
A maid entered silently, placing plates of seared scallops and gold-leafed greens in front of us before vanishing just as quickly. I stared at the food, my stomach in knots.
"Eat," he said. "You're too thin. I don't like my investments looking fragile."
"I'm not hungry," I whispered.
"I didn't ask if you were hungry. I told you to eat."
The sheer authority in his voice left no room for argument. I picked up the silver fork, my hand shaking so hard it clinked against the porcelain. I forced a bite down, though it tasted like ash in my mouth.
Silence stretched between us, filled only by the crackle of the fire and the sound of my own thundering heart. Silas watched me with the intensity of a scientist observing a specimen.
"There are rules to this 'engagement,' Elena," he said suddenly, leaning back in his chair. "Rule number one: You do not leave this estate without my express permission.
Rule number two: You do not speak to the press. And rule number three..."
He paused, his gaze dropping to the neckline of the robe where the silk dipped low.
"You answer your phone on the first ring. Every time. Whether I am calling to check on you, or calling to tell you where to be. You are on my time now."
"And if I refuse?" I challenged, though my heart was hammering.
Silas set his glass down with a sharp thud. He leaned across the table, his face inches from mine. The coldness in his eyes was gone, replaced by a dark, simmering heat that was far more terrifying.
"Then your father's 'accident' in the prison transport happens a few weeks early," he rasped. "Don't test the limits of my patience, little bird. I can be a very generous master, or I can be your worst nightmare. The choice is yours."
I looked into his eyes and saw no mercy. He wasn't just a billionaire; he was a man who played with lives like they were chess pieces.
"I understand," I whispered, lowering my gaze.
"Good girl." He reached across the table, his hand covering mine. His skin was hot, his grip firm and possessive. "Now, finish your dinner. Tomorrow, we have a gala to attend. The world needs to see my new fiancée."
He stood up, but he didn't leave. He walked around to my side of the table again. This time, he gripped my chin, tilting my face up to his. He leaned down, his lips hovering just a hair's breadth from mine. I could smell the scotch and the sandalwood, a combination that made my head spin.
"One more thing," he whispered against my lips. "Tonight, you sleep in the master suite. With me."
My eyes widened. "The deal... the deal was for a year. You didn't say....."
"I said you would play the part of my devoted fiancée," he interrupted, his thumb brushing over my lower lip, a gesture that was both a caress and a warning. "And my fiancée doesn't sleep in the guest wing. Get used to the feel of my sheets, Elena. You'll be spending a lot of time in them."
He let go of my chin and walked toward the door, leaving me trembling in the flickering firelight. I looked down at the red silk robe, the color of blood and passion, and realized the cage was much smaller than I had thought.
And Silas Thorne had no intention of ever letting me go.