"Your acclimation to your new life. Your training." His eyes darken slightly. "After last night, I've realized you require more attention than I initially anticipated."
I set down my fork, suddenly less hungry. "I thought you had a company to run."
"I do. Wolfe Enterprises employs over fifteen thousand people across three continents." He says this not as a boast but as a simple statement of fact. "I have capable executives who can handle day-to-day operations for a short period. You, however, are a more... personal investment."
The clinical term makes something twist uncomfortably in my chest. "For twenty-nine more days," I remind him, needing to establish that boundary.
Roman's expression doesn't change, but something in his eyes hardens. "Yes, that's what the contract stipulates."
"You say that like you're already planning to extend it," I observe, trying to keep my tone light despite the flutter of unease in my stomach.
He takes the coffee cup from my hand, his fingers brushing mine deliberately. "I believe in planning for contingencies."
"The contingency being... what? That I might want to stay?" I laugh, the sound brittle even to my own ears. "I signed up for a month, Roman. Not a lifetime."
"A month is a long time, Delilah," he says, my name a caress in his mouth. "People can develop significant attachments in far less time."
"People, maybe. Not you." I meet his gaze directly. "You don't strike me as a man who forms attachments easily."
Something dangerous flickers in his eyes. "You'd be surprised what I'm capable of when I find something worth possessing permanently."
A shiver runs down my spine. "I'm not a possession."
"For the next twenty-nine days, you are." His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing across my lower lip. "And you responded beautifully to being possessed last night."
Heat floods my face at the reminder. "That was... physical. It doesn't mean?—"
"It means exactly what I said it means," he interrupts, voice soft but unyielding. "We fit together perfectly. Your body recognizes what your mind is still fighting."
Before I can formulate a response, he leans forward and captures my lips in a kiss that steals my breath and my arguments simultaneously. Unlike last night's hungry claiming, this is slow, deliberate—a methodical seduction that has my toes curling against the silk sheets.
When he pulls away, his eyes are dark with desire, but his control is firmly back in place. "Finish your breakfast," he murmurs. "Then shower and dress. You'll find suitable clothing in the closet. Nothing from your previous life, remember?"
The reminder of my agreement to leave everything behind stings more than it should. "What exactly is on the agenda for today's... training?" I ask, trying to reclaim some semblance of control.
Roman stands, straightening cuffs that don't need straightening. "First, we establish routines. Your diet, exercise, sleep schedule. Then we discuss expectations regarding yourappearance and behavior both in private and, eventually, in public."
"I sound like a prize pet being groomed for a show," I mutter.
His smile is cold but genuine. "Not inaccurate, though I prefer to think of it as refinement rather than training. You have natural quality, Delilah. I'm simply polishing what's already there."
"And what if I don't want to be polished?" I challenge, finding a spark of my old defiance.
Roman's expression doesn't change, but the temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. "The contract you signed gives me complete authority over your appearance and activities for the next month. You agreed to obey without question. Are you already attempting to renegotiate our terms?"
Put that way, my objection sounds petulant and futile. "No," I concede.
"Good." His approval shouldn't warm me, but it does. "Because I've invested considerable resources in you, Delilah. Far more than the financial compensation outlined in our agreement."
"What do you mean?"
He gestures vaguely around the room. "The clothes. The preparations. The time I've allocated personally. My interest in you extends beyond a simple transaction." His eyes lock with mine, intense and unyielding. "I don't do anything halfway. When I commit, I commit fully."
"You make it sound like we're in a relationship," I say, uncomfortable with the implication.
"We are in a relationship," he corrects. "A clearly defined one with mutually understood terms. The fact that money changes hands doesn't make it less real than the sentimental arrangements most people stumble into."
There's a cold logic to his words that I find hard to argue with, despite the objections clamoring in my mind. "For a month," I repeat, as much to remind myself as him.
