The door of the car slammed shut, sealing them in silence once more.
The adrenaline crash was instant.
Celeste slumped against the leather seat.
Her hands started to shake again.
She clasped them together in her lap to stop it.
Basile watched her.
He reached into the console again.
This time, he pulled out a packet of wet wipes.
He handed one to her.
"Wipe your hands," he said. "You touched the microphone. It was filthy."
Celeste took the wipe.
She scrubbed her palms.
"Thank you," she said. "For... everything."
Basile poured himself a drink from the crystal decanter. Amber liquid swirled in the glass.
"Don't thank me," he said sharply. "We made a deal. I upheld my end."
He took a sip.
"Now for yours."
Celeste straightened up.
The softness vanished from her face.
"I transferred the proxy voting rights to you electronically while we were in the church," she said. "Check your phone."
Basile didn't check his phone.
"I know," he said. "But that's not what I'm talking about."
He turned to face her.
"You're moving in."
Celeste blinked.
"Excuse me?"
"The Delgado Estate," he said. "Long Island. You're moving in tonight."
"That wasn't part of the deal," Celeste argued. "We said marriage. We didn't say cohabitation."
"Look at your phone," Basile said.
Celeste pulled her phone out.
It was exploding with notifications.
Twitter. Instagram. CNBC.
The Merger of the Century?
Franco Stock Plummets as Daughter Marries Rival.
Is it Real? Body Language Experts Weigh In.
"If we live apart," Basile said, swirling his drink, "the market will smell blood. They'll think it's a sham. The stock will tank, and your fifteen percent will be worthless."
He leaned forward.
"I need the stock stable so I can gut the company properly. To do that, we need to look like a happy, domestic couple."
Celeste gritted her teeth.
He was right.
Damn him. He was right.
"Fine," she said. "But I have conditions."
"I'm listening."
"Separate bedrooms," she said.
Basile's eyes glittered.
"Done."
"No questions about my schedule," she added. "I have things to do."
"As long as you're home for dinner when we have guests," he said.
"And," she hesitated. "I want a key to my own room. A lock."
Basile paused.
He looked at her, his expression unreadable.
"You really think you need a lock to keep me out?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know what I need yet," she admitted.
"You'll get your lock," he said.
The car turned off the highway.
They drove through massive iron gates.
A long, winding driveway led up to a sprawling stone mansion.
It looked like a fortress.
Dark stone. High turrets.
Surrounded by dense forest.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
The car stopped in front of the main entrance.
Alfredo was standing there, flanked by two maids.
Basile got out.
He came around to her side and opened the door.
He held out his hand.
Celeste looked at the house.
It was a cage.
A gilded, expensive cage.
But it was better than the sanitarium.
She took his hand.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Delgado," Basile murmured.
He pulled her out of the car.
He didn't let go of her hand as they walked up the steps.
The heavy front doors groaned open.
They stepped into the foyer.
It was massive, with a double staircase and marble floors.
The door boomed shut behind them.
The sound echoed like a prison cell closing.
Celeste looked at Basile.
He was watching her.
"Your room is the entire east wing," he said. "Mine is the west. We meet in the middle for meals."
He turned to walk away.
"Basile," she called out.
He stopped.
"Why?" she asked. "Why did you really agree to this? You could have hostilely taken over the company without me. It would have just taken longer."
Basile didn't turn around.
"Maybe I just wanted to see Elmore's face," he said. But as he turned to ascend the staircase, the harsh light from the grand foyer caught a flicker of something else in his eyes-something far older and more complex than simple revenge-before it was gone.
He walked up the stairs, leaving her standing alone in the center of his castle.
Celeste shivered.
She had escaped the wolves who pretended to be family. But she had willingly walked into the den of the monster who had never pretended to be anything else. And as the heavy doors boomed shut, she knew that surviving the monster would require a different kind of strength entirely.
