The mansion loomed ahead, dark and imposing.The driver opened my door, and the cold air brushed against my skin as I stepped out.Creed followed close behind, his presence a quiet storm at my back.
Inside, the house was dimly lit, sconces casting long shadows across the walls.Ennis appeared as if summoned by instinct alone, his composed efficiency untouched by the late hour.
“Will you be requiring anything further this evening, sir?”
“No,” Creed said curtly.“That will be all.”
Ennis inclined his head and disappeared down the hall, leaving us alone in the cavernous space.I turned toward Creed, unsure of what came next.
For a fleeting moment, something softened in his eyes.
Recognition.
Then it was gone.
“Go upstairs,” he said, voice tight with command.“Get some rest.”
“And you?”
“I’ll be in my study.”Already loosening his tie.Already retreating.
I climbed the staircase slowly, heart hammering, lungs tight.When I reached my room, I closed the door softly behind me and leaned against it, releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.The opulence of the room felt suffocating now, too polished for the unrest coiling inside me.
I undressed and stepped into the shower, letting the heat pound against my skin as my mind replayed the night in fragments: his hand at my back, the restraint in his silence, the flicker of something unguarded in his eyes.
Somewhere deep inside, I knew something had shifted.Not forgiveness.But movement.
By the time I stepped out, the water had gone cold.I stared at my reflection, the weight of my choices pressing down on me.
I wasn’t surrendering myself.I was choosing him, with intention, with patience, with eyes open.
Trust wasn’t something Creed gave lightly.And earning it back would require more than obedience.It would require endurance.
I wrapped myself in a towel and crossed back into the bedroom, reaching for one of his T-shirts, craving the familiarity of his scent, the illusion of closeness.
The door creaked open.
Creed stood there.
Still in his tuxedo.Unyielding.Unreadable.His presence filled the room, suffocating and electric.
His gray eyes locked onto mine, storm clouds, and steel.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t blink.
The door clicked shut behind him with a finality that settled deep in my bones.
Still in his tuxedo, jacket unbuttoned, bow tie loosened but not removed—like he hadn’t allowed himself the relief of shedding the night yet, as if he’d been holding it together with sheer force of will.
His gaze dragged slowly over me, bare skin, damp hair, and towel clutched tight at my chest.Assessing.
Control straining at the edges.
“You should be asleep,” he said finally.
“I was trying,” I replied, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.
