The interior of King's estate was a study in isolation. Black marble floors, white walls, grey furniture. It was beautiful and completely devoid of life.
King led her up a floating staircase to a massive bedroom. The entire far wall was glass, looking out over the churning black Atlantic Ocean.
"You'll stay here," King said. "This is the master suite."
Adeline blinked. "Where is the guest room?"
King turned, unbuttoning his jacket. "You're not staying in the guest room. We are allies. I need to monitor my asset."
Heat rose in Adeline's cheeks. "But..."
"Why so shy?" King stepped closer, looming over her. "You weren't shy in my bathroom this morning."
He pulled a thick document from his briefcase and dropped it on the bed. "Sign it."
Adeline picked it up. Strategic Consulting Service Agreement.
She flipped through the pages. The legal jargon was dense, but the meaning was clear. She would provide information; he would provide protection and resources.
Her finger stopped at the final clause.
Clause 14: The Consultant agrees to maintain absolute availability and proximity to the Client for the duration of the project, to facilitate real-time strategic response and ensure seamless execution of high-stress negotiations.
"This is clever," Adeline looked up. "It's a leash, written by a lawyer."
King removed his cufflinks, tossing them onto the nightstand. "Clarity prevents misunderstandings. And I expect you to be available for every meeting, planned or otherwise."
He gestured toward the door. "You can refuse. The front gate is a mile that way. It's still raining."
Adeline looked at the dark ocean. She thought of Preston's face when he shoved her into the mud. She thought of Carmella's smug text messages.
She had no leverage. She had nothing.
She picked up the heavy Montblanc pen from the bedside table. Her hand shook, but she signed her name. The ink looked like black blood on the white paper.
King smiled. It was the smile of a wolf that had just cornered a lamb. He took the paper.
"Contract active. Irrevocable."
He pointed to the bathroom. "Clause one: Go wash. Scrub that filth off my investment."
Adeline walked into the bathroom. A massive stone tub was already filled with steaming water. Silas was efficient.
She scrubbed her skin until it was pink, washing away the mud, the rain, and the lingering feeling of Preston's grip. When she looked in the mirror, the girl staring back wasn't the exile anymore. She was something harder.
She wrapped herself in a black silk robe she found hanging on the door.
When she walked back into the bedroom, King was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading a file. He was wearing wire-rimmed reading glasses. It made him look deceptively civilized.
He looked up. His gaze darkened. "Come here."
Adeline walked to him. He pulled her down onto his lap.
There was no storm outside to mask the sound of her breathing this time.
King kissed her. It started slow, tasting of toothpaste and whiskey, then deepened into something starving. His hands roamed over the silk, possessive and heavy.
"Will you destroy them?" Adeline whispered against his lips.
King bit her lower lip, hard enough to sting. "I will leave them with nothing. Consider it a dowry."
That night, Adeline slept in the center of the massive bed, wrapped in King's arms. She didn't dream of Utah. She dreamed of burning buildings.
