I released her hem, instead gripping her chin and forcing her to look up at me.
"Under my roof, you're part of me. Your image reflects my taste."
"What if your taste conflicts with my comfort?"
I stared into her eyes, that defiant fire burning bright. This woman always found new ways to challenge me.
"Then your body learns to accommodate my taste. Noelle, every time you obey makes the air under this roof more pleasant. Every time you resist—even over something small like a dress—makes things very troublesome."
I locked eyes with her, making sure she understood my meaning.
"And I hate trouble. Now put it on."
I released her and walked to the door.
At the threshold, I stopped without turning around.
"You have ten minutes. If you're not changed by then, I'll help you change—my way."
I left the room and closed the door.
Leaning against the wall outside, I lit a cigarette.
She'd change. I was certain.
At dinner, I waited at the head of the table.
The door opened. Noelle walked in.
She wore the black silk gown.
The dress perfectly outlined her figure—slender waist, flowing curves. The high slit revealed glimpses of her long legs as she moved.
She'd pinned her hair up simply, exposing the lines of her neck and collarbone.
My breath caught slightly. She was beautiful. So beautiful I wanted to hide her away where no one else could see.
She sat in the chair to my left, graceful but cold-eyed.
I could feel the resistance radiating from her, but I didn't care. She'd put it on. She'd obeyed. It was a good start.
Mother and Anya had already taken their seats. Mother gave Noelle an appraising look, a flicker of satisfaction crossing her features.
Dinner proceeded in silence. I cut my steak, but my gaze kept drifting to Noelle.
She ate little, her movements mechanical, as if eating was just an obligation.
Then Mother spoke suddenly.
"Noelle, you know Kholod smoothed over some troubles for your family's business, don't you?"
I set down my knife and fork, looking at Mother. Why bring this up?
Noelle froze, too, surprise flashing in her eyes when she looked at me.
I met her gaze expressionlessly, saying nothing.
She lowered her eyes, answering quietly. "I didn't know. But I imagine it wasn't for me—it was for the Morozov family's reputation."
