She's standing by the window, still in her work clothes—modest blouse, knee-length skirt—looking out at the gardens. She doesn't turn when I enter.
"We had an agreement," I say.
"You had a demand. I had no choice but to listen."
"And yet here you are. In the wrong room. Again."
"It's not the wrong room." She finally turns. "It's my room. The one I chose."
"The one I told you not to use."
"The one I'm using anyway." She crosses her arms. "What are you going to do about it, Dante? Drag me by my hair? Lock me in? Chain me to your bed?"
The image that creates is... distracting.
I push it aside. "I gave you the last two nights as a courtesy. Tonight, you sleep where I tell you to sleep."
"Or what?"
"Or you learn what happens when you defy me."
She laughs, sharp and bitter. "You've already taken everything. My freedom. My choices. My mother's health is in your hands. What else can you possibly?—"
I cross the room in three strides, grab her wrists, and pin them above her head against the wall.
Her breath catches.
"I don't need your consent to make the world believe you belong to me," I say, my voice low. "I don't need your permission to control every aspect of this arrangement. And I sure as hell don't need you to like me to get what I want."
"Then what do you need?" She's breathing hard, her pulse visible in her throat.
"Obedience." I lean in closer. "You agreed to follow my instructions. I'm instructing you to sleep in my room. It's not complicated."
"It is when you won't tell me why it matters so much!"
"Because what's mine doesn't hide from me." The words come out rougher than I intended. "Because if I allow you to dictate terms on this, you'll push on everything else. Because I need to know you understand the power dynamic here."
"I understand it perfectly." Her eyes flash. "You're the monster. I'm the victim. Very clear."
"If that's what you want to believe." I release one wrist, trace my finger along her jaw. "But we both know it's more complicated than that."
"It's not?—"
"You want me." I state it as fact. "You hate that you want me, but you do. And that scares you more than anything else I could do to you."
"You're delusional?—"
"Am I?" My hand slides to her throat, feeling her pulse race. "Should I test that theory?"
She doesn't answer. Just stares at me with those hazel eyes that are equal parts fury and something she won't name.
"Here's what's going to happen," I say. "You're going to stop fighting me on this. You're going to sleep in my room like I've told you to. And if you continue to defy me, there will be consequences." I release her other wrist, step back. "Get your things. Move them to my room. Now."
"No."
The word hangs in the air.
"Excuse me?"
