He exhaled slowly, the sound filling the space between us before he stepped past me, close enough that the heat of him brushed my arm. I went rigid. His voice was low when it reached my ear, rough with restraint. “You’ll shower because your body hasn’t rested in days, and I need you to relax,” he said. “Then you’ll dress because appearances matter to those we’re about to have dinner with, and I know you think defiance will make me want to release you from this contract, but I’m afraid there’s very little that would make me do that.” He paused. “Look at me, Arden.”
My jaw tightened, but I tilted my face up and met his gaze.
“You have twenty minutes,” he repeated. “If you aren’t ready, I’ll assume you’ve chosen defiance over your family, answers, true vengeance, and certain wealth. Only a fool would pass on that, and I don’t think you’re a fool…are you?”
The words lodged inside me like shrapnel. Family. Answers. Vengeance. Wealth. Every one of them pressed against a hunger I had never been allowed to indulge. I hated that he knew how to aim so precisely, and I hated even more that a part of me wanted those things badly enough to feel the hook. He wasn’t threatening violence; he was threatening erasure. The kind where doors close gently and permanently, where everything Ihad ever clawed toward remained just out of reach because I’d chosen pride over survival.
He turned away as if that settled it, and against my pride, I followed.
The hallway swallowed sound the farther we went, thick carpet muting my steps while his remained measured and unhurried ahead of me. The space itself seemed designed to guide me forward, the walls narrowing almost imperceptibly and the ceiling low. When he stopped, it was before a wide, unmarked door that blended seamlessly into the paneling. He opened it and stepped aside, allowing me through without touching me.
I noticed that immediately. He was manipulative, but he also seemed to uncharacteristically be a man of his word. He didn’t want to touch me. At least not yet. In fact, it seemed as if Alexander was acutely aware of space. He moved like someone who understood exactly how much room he took up and how easily he could take more. I stepped past him, skin tight, pulse steady only because I forced it to be, and wondered which unsettled me more, that he could touch me whenever he wanted or that he was proving he didn’t need to in order to get what he wanted.
The room he brought me to was large and dim, the same low warmth as the parlor clinging to it, but it didn’t feel safe or lived in. The bed sat in the middle, large and perfectly made. I’d slept in worse places, on harder floors, with far less promise of comfort, and yet this unsettled me more than any of them. Alexander closed the door behind us. My hair raised along my arms as he strode to the wardrobe and tugged it open, revealing glittering gowns and silks. My fingers shook as he opened a separate cabinet that housed several heels. Then he disappeared without a word into the bathroom. The rush of water roared to life, and he reappeared with a glance at his watch. “Fifteen minutes now. Meet me in the parlor.”
I sucked in a breath. “I…might need more time.”
He stopped in the threshold of the bedroom, meeting my gaze in the intense way he only seemed to be able to manage. “Why?”
I cleared my throat. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to shower or dress myself. It was more so that I hadn’t really done either in a long time. Aside from the bath at the penthouse, most of my life had been reduced to being hosed down at Halden’s compound or scrubbed raw by Leah at Viktor’s, cleanliness treated like maintenance instead of care. One glance at the running shower and the neat rows of soaps made heat creep up my neck, shame burning as I shifted where I stood, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands. Something about my silence must have given me away, because when I looked up, Alexander’s hard expression had softened.
He turned his back to me suddenly and folded his arms. “Undress.”
I shuddered. “N-no.”
“Must I remind you of the lives on the line with every demand?”
Lips pressed in aggravation, I ripped off my tank and threw it to the floor beside him. The fabric slapped down and his shoulders stiffened. I wrenched the zipper on my jeans, kicking off my boots and pants until I was nude. “Happy?” I growled, expecting him to turn around.
Instead, he remained still, his fists balled. “Go to the shower. Close the door.”
Frowning, I followed the directions, eyeing the bathroom for any possible weapons. Unfortunately, it was clear he thought about that. There wasn’t so much as a toothbrush to be made into a shiv. I jolted a little when the shower door banged shut behind me, but my muscles relaxed beneath the hot spray of the water. Tension returned when I noticed Alexander’s tall, shadowed and warped figure on the other side of the glass. It wasfogged over and distorted, so I didn’t think he could see me, but I still hugged myself, covering my breasts. “What are you doing?”
“The gel is for your body,” he said. He still had his back to me. He propped himself against the door, the back of his suit jacket pressing against the glass.
My heart leapt at his voice, my hand shaking as I found the body wash and poured it into my palm. My cheeks heated as I realized what he was doing. I felt embarrassed and also this estranged sense of gratitude, and I hated to feel either when I knew he was threatening my family. I washed quickly and studied the remaining bottles. “Um…” I bit my tongue as I looked between the Shampoo and Conditioner. I couldn’t remember which went first but I knew they were for my hair.
“Shampoo,” he said.
I nodded and cleared my throat. “I know,” I lied.
“Good. Then I can go…unless you also don’t know how to dress yourself? I can ask Monty to come and help you.”
“I’m fine,” I ground out, lathering my hair.
He disappeared after my response. I finished quickly, peering out to be sure he was actually gone before wrapping myself in a towel and padding back into the bedroom. My clothes and boots were missing. I had planned to put them back on, to keep at least one piece of myself intact. I turned to the wardrobe, fingers brushing over the gowns that caught the light. Several still had their price tags attached, numbers so high they barely felt real. I couldn’t imagine choosing to spend that kind of money on a dress, but I reached for the simplest one. I chose the lowest heels as well. I’d worn worse on missions, but this wasn’t about comfort. If I looked uneasy in finery, if I played the part of someone ill-suited to this world, it could work in my favor. Underestimation had kept me alive before. The more Alexander believed I was out of place, the easier it would be to make himcareless, possibly even want to toss me away. If he grew bored of me, then maybe he would release Creed.
My hair was still damp when I stepped back into the parlor. Alexander waited in the doorway, one shoulder braced against the frame, scrolling through his phone like this was any other evening. He glanced up as I approached, his gaze dragging over me. “You didn’t dry your hair.”
“It’ll dry on its own.”
He pushed off the doorway and crossed to the bar cart where a stack of hand towels rested, plucking one free. “Stand here. Back to me.”
I folded my arms, pressed my tongue to the inside of my cheek, and stared into the fire. My shoulders locked the moment he stepped closer, the towel rough against my scalp as he worked through my hair with brisk, efficient motions, gathering the damp strands and blotting them dry.
“I could do this myself,” I said.
His hands paused, then resumed, slower. When he spoke, he changed the subject entirely. “Tonight’s dinner will be with other Buyers,” he said. “I need them to believe you belong to me, or they will demand access. You will not speak unless I prompt you. You will not remove your ring. And for the duration of the evening, you are not a Creed. You are a Doll and my compliant wife.” He leaned closer, his voice low and exact. “Do you understand?”
