The private elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. The massive penthouse spread out before them, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a sweeping view of Central Park.
Angelo took his jacket from Elba's shoulders and tossed it to the waiting butler. He pointed a long finger toward a sunlit room down the hall. "You sleep in there from now on."
Elba dragged her feet across the hardwood floor. She walked into the room and collapsed face-first onto the massive, plush mattress.
Wow, the stench of capitalist decay, she thought, burying her face in the pillows. This is ten thousand times better than that dark attic at the estate.
Angelo was pouring a glass of whiskey at the living room bar. He paused, the amber liquid splashing against the crystal. His grip on the bottle tightened as anger toward his parents and Georgina flared in his chest.
His private cell phone rang on the marble counter. The screen flashed the name Walter Chandler.
Angelo picked it up and tapped the speaker button. He took a sip of whiskey.
"Angelo, please tell me you're coming tonight," Walter's anxious voice filled the room. "It's Kacey's coming-of-age dinner. I need you there."
Elba slipped out of her room barefoot. She crouched behind the large velvet sofa, peeking over the top.
"Kacey is getting frozen out by the socialites," Walter pleaded. "I need a heavy hitter to show up and back her."
Angelo frowned. He hated these superficial social events. He opened his mouth to say no.
Elba shoved a pink macaron into her mouth.
Poor Kacey, Elba thought, chewing rapidly. Tonight she's going to get bullied by those green tea bitches, and her fiancé is a literal psychopath who beats women!
The word "No" died in Angelo's throat.
That abusive monster is going to beat her to death, Elba continued in her mind. Then he'll swallow the Chandler family assets, and Walter will be forced to jump off a bridge.
Angelo's eyes turned lethal. This wasn't just about a friend's life; it was about the survival of a crucial business ally.
He leaned closer to the phone. "Fine. I'll be there on time."
Walter let out a loud sigh of relief, thanking him repeatedly before hanging up.
Angelo set the glass down. He walked slowly around the sofa and looked down. Elba was crouching on the rug, her cheeks stuffed with food.
Elba jumped. Macaron crumbs fell onto her shirt.
I'm dead, she panicked. He caught me eavesdropping. He's going to throw me out on the street!
Angelo looked at her wide, terrified eyes. He fought the urge to smile. "Go change your clothes," he commanded coldly.
Elba blinked. "Change into what?"
Angelo pointed toward the massive walk-in closet down the hall. "An evening gown. You are coming with me tonight."
Elba shook her head violently.
I am not going! she yelled in her head. That place is Georgina's home turf. If I go, I'm just a stepping stone for her to look good!
Angelo took a step forward. He placed both hands on the back of the sofa, leaning over her, casting her in his shadow. "That was an order, Elba. Not a request."
Elba felt the weight of his authority crush her resistance. She pouted, dragging herself up from the floor, and walked to the closet.
She pushed the doors open. Rows of the latest haute couture gowns hung perfectly arranged. As she approached, she recalled hearing Angelo's brisk command to his assistant just minutes ago over the phone to have a selection of designer pieces rushed over. She checked the tags. Every single one was her exact size, fresh from the boutique.
She ran her fingers over the silk.
When did he prepare all this? she wondered. Was he planning to lock me up as a pet canary?
In the living room, Angelo rubbed his temples. Her thought process was exhausting.
Thirty minutes later, Elba walked out. She wore a midnight-blue gown that shimmered like a starry sky. It fit her perfectly.
Angelo's breath hitched. He picked up a diamond necklace from the counter. He walked up behind her, the heat of his chest brushing her bare back, and fastened the clasp.
"Tonight," he whispered near her ear, "you stay right beside me."
