And Malik. His voice was smooth.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I stormed into the room.
Malik looked up and smiled, as if greeting an old acquaintance. As if my distrust meant nothing to him.
I hesitated, gawking.
The room was… beautiful.
Rosie perched atop an impressive four-poster bed draped in heavy blue silk. The canopy’s fabric shimmered faintly in the candlelight, enclosing what I could only assume was a featherbed resting atop a husk mattress.
Beside it, a smaller bed—just Rosie’s size.
A massive dresser stood opposite the bed, its dark wood polished to a gleam. In the corner, a hassock and chair sat near a large armoire, its golden handles glinting.
And the rug.
A stunning expanse of woven blues, golds, and reds, swirling together like a painting, come to life.
Gold stripes lined every wall—except for the one behind the bed, which was papered in rich, elegant blue.
I swallowed hard.
This was no dungeon.
No prison.
This was a sanctuary.
And that terrified me even more.
The memory of Balthazar’s lair haunted my mind—the cockroaches, the foul, suffocating mustiness, the darkness that seemed to crawl beneath my skin.
This was the exact opposite.
Emily pushed past me, her mouth gaping just like mine.
“Oh, my! What a beautiful room!”
“This can be your room, Miss Emily,” Malik offered.
Emily didn’t hesitate—she flopped onto the bed, sinking into the feather-soft mattress with a blissful sigh. “It feels like heaven.”
Warning bells clanged inside my head.
Don’t get seduced.
This was a trick.
Malik’s voice was a purr of perfect hospitality. “Would you and Miss Rosie like to take a bath, Miss Emily?”
Emily beamed. “Would we ever!”
“I’ll have one of the maids draw one for you.” Malik turned to leave, but I thrust out a hand, stopping him cold.
“Hold on a second.” My suspicion evident in my tone. “How do we know we can trust you?”
