But then a knock sounded at the door as if my thoughts had been heard. How had he known I was ready? The thought made my gaze flick instinctively toward the corners of the ceiling, expecting to see cameras there, but there was nothing.
I adjusted the straps of my dress, drawing in a careful breath as though I could steady my pulse through sheer will alone. The knock came again, softer this time. As though whoever stood on the other side understood that I had heard it the first time and was merely allowing me a moment to gather myself. Because it hadn’t sounded too loud or impatient. Just measured enough to tell me that whoever stood beyond it knew exactly what they were doing.
My pulse leapt anyway.
Would it be Oblivion?
I smoothed my hands down the front of the skirt more out of habit than necessity, then left the walk-in closet before crossing the bedroom. Doing so with what I hoped resembled composure rather than trepidation.
For a fleeting second, just before my fingers closed around the handle, I allowed myself to imagine that it would be him standing there. That he would have come himself.
Which meant as I opened the door, I braced for the handsome sight. However, my breathy gasp of shock was soon followed by the flicker of disappointment that crossed my features. Because there stood the man I now knew as Torin.
His broad-shoulders and intimidating frame were encased in a dark suit tailored to fit every bulging muscle. The unique tattoos and scars on his face I remembered from that day I first showed up. However, instead of the same scowl directed my way, this time he seemed at ease…friendly even.
There was nothing overtly threatening about his posture tonight. No visible hostility. If anything, he appeared almost polished. The faint curve of his mouth told me he had noticed everything my face had failed to conceal.
“You were expecting someone else?” he asked, his tone light enough to pass for teasing, though there was an undercurrent of awareness beneath it. Heat rose faintly along my neck, and I resisted the urge to ask where his boss was.
“I suppose I was,” I admitted, lifting my chin a fraction. There was little point in pretending otherwise. His brow arched slightly, amusement flickering across his features.
“Lord Oblivion is waiting for you,” he said, stepping back just enough to give me space.
“I have been charged with escorting you to him.”
Charged.
The word settled somewhere between formal and possessive.
He moved aside fully then, one arm extending in a gesture that was almost gentlemanly, and for a moment I simply looked at him, remembering the last time we had stood face to face. The cursed dismissal of being told to fuck off. The unmistakable message that I did not belong anywhere near his employer.
Now he held the door open as though I were someone important.
“You seem considerably more accommodating this evening,” I said lightly as I stepped past him, the emerald fabric brushing softly against the dark wood of the doorway.
Torin closed the door behind me, falling into step at my side without crowding me.
“Circumstances evolve,” he replied smoothly, and that earned him a sideways glance.
“Is that an apology?” I asked with a raised brow.
He exhaled something close to a restrained chuckle.
“It is an acknowledgement that I clearly misjudged you,” he corrected.
The corridor stretched ahead of us, lit in warm pools of light that caught faintly in the sheen of my dress as we moved. My heels sounded softer against the polished floor than I had expected, almost swallowed by the hush of the manor at this hour.
“But yes, it is also an apology.”
“And did he make you say that?” I asked, unable to resist.
Torin’s gaze slid toward me briefly, the corner of his mouth lifting again in that knowing way.
“What do you think?” he replied with a grin.
Despite myself, a small laugh escaped me, tension easing by a fraction. It was difficult not to picture Oblivion’s expression at the idea of issuing such an order.
“If it is any consolation, I wish I had listened to you,” I said after a moment, fingers unconsciously gathering a small portion of my skirt as I walked, trying to keep the slit in it from opening too much.
