The name Elias was a literal ghost. I spent the afternoon hidden in the library, tucked behind a shelf of dusty law books where the camera couldn't quite see my hands.
I searched every database I could find on the guest computer and flipped through the back of every ledger. Nothing....No Elias.... No phone record. My father's only lead was a dead end, and it felt like the air was being sucked out of the room. Maybe he's dead...Maybe he never existed. I shoved the journal deep into my waistband and headed back to my room before Marcus could find another reason to loom over me.
The silence of my suite was broken the second I stepped inside. Mrs. Gable was there, standing like a short bitch in the center of the room.
On the bed, she had laid out a dress that looked like it belonged to a nun...high neck, long sleeves, and a dusty grey color that made me want to gag. "Mr. Volkov expects you for a formal dinner tonight," she said, her voice clipping every word like a pair of shears. "Put this on. The stylist will be here in ten minutes to deal with... that." She gestured vaguely at my face.
"I'm not wearing that," I said, looking at the grey heap. "It look like a rainy day in a basement." Mrs. Gable's eyes turned into slits, and she told me that modesty was a requirement for an asset of my status. She said the dress was selected to reflect the purity of the project.
Purity. Like I'm a prize cow. I waited until she marched out to check on the kitchen before I lunged for the walk-in closet.
I tore through the hangers, pushing aside the beiges and the creams that Darian clearly wanted me to wear. I needed something else. I needed to stop being the girl who got pushed around. If Darian wanted a masterpiece, I would give him one he couldn't handle.
My hands snagged on something heavy and cold. It was a gown made of midnight-black silk, so dark it looked like it was drinking the light in the room. It was backless, with a side zipper that looked dangerously thin. It wasn't pure...It was a weapon.
I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the silk. It felt like cool water sliding over my skin, but as I reached for the side zipper, my fingers fumbled. The fabric was tight..too tight and the teeth of the zipper wouldn't catch. I strained, twisting my torso and cursing under my breath.
My skin was flushed from the heat of the room and the frustration of being trapped in a piece of clothing I couldn't even close. Stupid dress. Stupid house.
The temperature in the room didn't just drop literally it died. I didn't hear the door open, but I felt the shift in the air.
I froze, my hands still hooked awkwardly behind my ribs, my back completely exposed to the room. I saw him in the reflection of the full-length mirror. Darian was standing in the doorway, watching me struggle. He didn't look away he didn't even apologize. He just walked toward me with the slow, predatory gait of a man who owned everything he looked at.
I tried to pull the front of the dress up, my heart thudding against my lungs like a trapped bird. "You're not supposed to be in here," I gasped, my voice cracking. Darian didn't answer until he was standing directly behind me. I could see the contrast in the mirror: my pale, trembling skin against the sharp, dark lines of his expensive suit. He reached out, and I flinched, but he didn't grab me.
His fingers were like ice as they grazed the bare skin of my spine. I shivered, a violent jolt traveling from my neck down to my heels. He placed his hand at the base of the zipper and slowly, agonizingly, began to pull it up. I watched his eyes in the mirror. They weren't cold anymore; they were dark with something that made my stomach do a slow, sick flip.
His knuckles brushed against my ribs as the silk tightened around my waist, sealing me inside.
"You are so weak, Liora," he whispered. His breath was warm against the back of my ear, a direct contradiction to the coldness of his touch. He didn't pull away once the dress was zipped. He lingered, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck, right where my hair ended. My brain was screaming at me to run, to scream, to push him away. He's the monster. He bought you. But as his fingers stayed there, pressing just hard enough to make my breath catch, a new thought pushed through the fear.
A messy, dangerous thought. He likes this. I looked at our reflection...the way he was looming over me, the way his jaw was set tight. Darian Volkov thought he was the one in control because he had the money and the walls. But he was reacting to me. He was breathing harder than he was a minute ago.
I leaned my head back, just a fraction of an inch, letting my hair brush against his hand. I saw his pupils blow wide in the mirror. He's human, I realized. He's a man, and men have weak spots. If I couldn't find Elias, and I couldn't find a way out through the walls, I would find a way out through him.
I needed to play the part. I needed to stop fighting the cage and start seducing the guard.
"Is that what you think?" I whispered back, my voice steadier than I felt. I forced myself to turn around in his space, my chest almost brushing his. I looked up at him, my eyes tracing the hard line of his mouth. "That I'm weak?"
Darian's hand dropped from my neck, but he didn't step back. He looked down at me like I was a puzzle he was tempted to break. "I think you're a girl playing a game you don't understand," he said, his voice raspy. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering on my cheek for a second too long before he checked himself.
"Dinner is in five minutes," he said, his mask of ice sliding back into place. "Don't make me wait." He turned on his heel and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.
I stood in the center of the room, my skin still tingling where he had touched me. I looked at the stranger in the black dress. I didn't look like the girl from the diner anymore. I looked like a threat. My heart was still racing, but for the first time, it wasn't just from terror. It was from the realization that even a man like Darian had a price. And I was going to make sure he paid it.
