I expect her to roll her eyes. Threaten, as she enjoys doing. But she doesn’t say anything, her eyes lingering on me before she turns away.
I strip off and take my place in the line of women, my hands folded placidly in my lap and my head bowed as we wait for instructions. My eyes slide to the left, and I pause.
The dark-haired girl – she’s gone. Replaced by a slack-faced brunette. She lists to the side, as if she’ll topple over, her eyes glazed.
My stomach turns.
“Up.” We’re herded out of the room, the guards staying close as we march down the hall to a dark studio, modeled to mimic a nightclub. Stefan uncrosses his arms, stepping away from the wall to follow as I glance over my shoulder.
Cecile moves down the line as we stand quietly, handing out shoes. Mine are half a size too small when I try to squeeze my feet into them, gaudy gold glittering heels that look to be at least six inches.
When I straighten, I realize how long it’s been since I wore heels. Since I dressed as Caterina Corvo, the heir to the Corvo line, with my pencil skirts, my silk shirts.
Myknives. Fuck, I miss my knives.
My fingers twitch.It will not be long.
With Stefan’s eyes on me, I don’t feel as alone as I did in those first days and weeks. The music pounds as each of us is allocated a space to dance, the guards leering and muttering to themselves as Cecile walks around, criticizing and slapping where movements are out of sync.
For once, she leaves me alone, scanning me with thinned lips before she turns her back and moves onto the next girl.
My eyes catch Stefano, his jaw tight, as my hands slide around the pole and I twist, arching my back.
His brows flick upward.
No. Not quite so alone.
His hand lingers at the bottom of my bare back, not quite touching the skin as we’re escorted out. Muttered words heat the delicate ridge of my ear. “Stop it.”
My lips twitch as I fight to keep that empty look on my face. But it slips into place easily enough, as we turn left and the rest of them turn right, herded by the guards for theirothertraining. Any amusement drains from me.
“I hate this.”
Stefan nudges me forward, silently urging speed. Before the sounds start to ripple out. “I know.”
I don’t see Cecile again until it’s time to dress for dinner. She turns up at my door with an evening gown in a wide cream box, her own body clad in a floor-length, nude dress with crystals spreading across it in a black wave that leaves little to the imagination.
The sight of it fills me with relief. Not just the two of us tonight, then.
She follows me into the bathroom, her red lips pursing at the bare wall above the sink. “What happened to your mirror?”
Breathe.
“It fell. Stefano got rid of it.”
She eyes me for another moment before moving on. “Shower, and then come out.”
I make the shower last as long as possible. Steam fills the space around me as I wash my hair, wash it again. Apply conditioner and comb it out,slowly.
The water is hot, but my body grows colder by the second.
I made this choice. I could be home now, back with the men I walked away from, back in my apartment, myhome. Making plans to take down Matteo and Salvatore with them by my side. But I chose to stay. And now… now I must live with it.
The first consequence comes sooner than I thought. I stare at the paraphernalia Cecile has laid out, dragging the edges of my robe closer together. “I don’t think so.”
And that cold expands, expands into a ball of frost that sinks inside my stomach, squeezing and clenching.
A new twist in Salvatore’s game.
