Herminia sat on the edge of the king-sized bed in her new room. It was beautiful—cream and gold, with a view of the lake—but it felt sterile. Like a hotel room.
Enola was unpacking Herminia's clothes. Her movements were sharp, precise. Too precise.
"Enola," Herminia said. "I don't like it here. I want to go ask Barbara if I can move back."
Enola didn't stop hanging dresses. "Mr. Randolph insists you stay here, Miss."
"Since when do you call him Mr. Randolph?" Herminia asked. "You used to call him 'The Dictator' behind his back."
Enola turned. Her face was blank, her smile practiced. "People change. He signs the checks."
Herminia stood up. "I'm going to see Barbara."
She moved toward the door. Enola was there before she could take three steps. She moved with a speed that was unnatural for a personal assistant. She blocked the doorway, her stance wide, balanced.
"Mrs. Randolph is resting," Enola said. Her tone was polite, but her body language was threatening.
"You know martial arts?" Herminia asked, stepping back.
"Self-defense classes," Enola said smoothly. "To better protect you."
The door behind Enola opened. Hunter walked in. He was holding a dark blue silk scarf.
"What's the noise?" he asked.
"She wants to leave," Enola said, stepping aside.
Hunter walked into the room. He approached Herminia, holding out the scarf. "You left this in the study."
Herminia's breath hitched. It was her mother's scarf. The only thing she had left of her. She reached for it, but Hunter didn't let go. He looped it around her neck, using the silk to gently tilt her face toward him, a tether of soft luxury.
Enola quietly exited the room, closing the door with a soft click.
"You bought her," Herminia whispered, looking at the closed door. "You bought everyone."
"I hired professionals," Hunter corrected. He held the ends of the scarf, his knuckles grazing the silk, anchoring her in place. "Enola isn't just an assistant. She's your detail. You don't go anywhere without her."
"I'm a prisoner."
"You're safe," Hunter said. "Stop fighting me, Herminia. It's exhausting."
He released the scarf. "We're visiting Nana Rose tonight. Be ready at seven."
Herminia's heart jumped. Nana Rose. The old housekeeper who had practically raised her. She was the only person in this world who loved Herminia unconditionally.
"Nana is awake?"
"For now," Hunter said. "If you behave, you can see her."
He was dangling her love for Nana Rose like a carrot. It was cruel. It was effective.
"I'll be ready," she said quietly.
