The night comes back in fragments—his confession, my surrender. The way we broke apart together, grief and pleasure tangled into something I still can't name.
I should feel regret. Shame. Horror at what I've become.
But all I feel is empty. Hollowed out. And furious with myself for feeling lighter.
I shift slightly, trying to move away, and his arm tightens around me.
"Stay," he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
"I need to use the bathroom."
It's not true, but I need distance. Need to think without his body pressed against mine, without his scent clouding my judgment.
He releases me reluctantly, and I slip out of bed, grabbing his discarded shirt from the floor. In the bathroom, I splash cold water on my face and stare at my reflection.
Who is this woman? Red hair tangled, lips still swollen, wearing his shirt like it's mine. Like I belong here.
I don't recognize her.
When I return, he's sitting up in bed, watching me with those intense green eyes. There's something different in his expression this morning—less predatory, more... tender.
It makes me want to scream.
"How do you feel?" he asks quietly.
"Like I made a terrible mistake," I say sharply, crossing my arms. "Like I let you manipulate me into thinking this is anything other than what it is."
His jaw tightens. "And what is it, Eve?"
"A cage." I meet his gaze defiantly. "A beautiful, expensive cage with silk sheets and breakfast in bed, but still a cage."
A soft knock interrupts us. "Mr. Hale? I have the breakfast you requested."
Nathan's eyes never leave mine. "Leave it outside the door. Thank you."
He retrieves the tray and sets it on the bed. I don't move.
"Eat," he says gently.
"I'm not hungry."
"Eve—"
"Don't." I hold up a hand. "Don't use that soft voice like you care about my well-being. You destroyed my life. You don't get to play concerned boyfriend now."
His expression hardens. "Sit down and eat."
The command in his voice makes my blood boil, but my hands are shaking with anger and something else I refuse to name.
I sit. But I don't eat.
"You're being childish," he says quietly.
"And you're being a controlling psychopath," I snap back. "At least I have an excuse."
***
"We're going out," Nathan announces after breakfast, already dressed in perfectly tailored slacks and a crisp white shirt.
