The ride home was silent.
And yet, his words echoed louder than the silence in the car.
She is my wall.
Anthony drove this time and not his driver, and I sat in the front seat. It was so quiet, I could hear my own throat bubble.
Why did I agree to this contract? Why did I step into this world? From the moment I saw him, I knew.
He was danger—quiet, consuming danger.
I should have stayed away. But no. My greedy eyes had widened at the sight of those six figures.
Six figures.
After being broke for so long, anyone would break. Maybe I should pretend I heard nothing. Maybe I should just follow his rules.
Maybe… maybe I should believe him when he says he'll protect me.
We stepped out of the car and began heading towards the building, this time as his receptionist saw us, she said nothing, but her eyes narrowed at me.
Huh, what's her problem?
The elevator ride was quiet as well, even though my rage roared and I should say something.
After the ding, we stepped out and Anthony was on his phone.
My anger intensified.
My heels clicked loudly on the marble floor. Too loud.
I don't want to stay here.
I wanted to leave. Maybe even find my mother—the one who left me. But would she even care?
"Stop that."
Anthony's voice snapped through the air just as we reached the door.
He turned to me. His eyes flicked down.
To my heels.
Good. Let him see that I'm upset.
Let me be childish.
"Am I in danger, Anthony?" I asked, my voice barely steady.
Damn it. He could be in danger. But why drag me into it?
"If you're in some sort of danger," I snapped, "why introduce me to your world?"
He sighed, his face heavy with exhaustion. The sharpness in his grey eyes was gone, dulled by the shadows under them.
Maybe I should let him rest.
"You heard." He didn't sound surprised.
What?
Was this his plan all along?
To pull me down into the pit with him?
Anthony pushed open the door and walked in.
I followed. Angrily.
Each stomp of my foot hit the floor hard—loud and sharp—because I knew he hated that sound.
"Stop it, Alicia."
He spun around, striding toward me then his hand gripped mine, "That noise—it irks me."
"Well, you caused it!", My voice rose.
He blinked.
That was the first time I'd snapped at him like that. But I didn't care. I was done.
"Introducing me to the world means whoever's after you will come for me too. Why did you do that? Why make me your fiancée?"
He shoved my hand away and turned.
But I grabbed his sleeve.
"What are you doing?", he snapped, staring hard down at me.
"What does it look like?" My fist tightened. Heavens, I could punch you, Anthony. "Why are you avoiding the topic?"
"It's better you don't know any further."
"Anth—"
"Let go." He pried my hand away and pushed it down. "I'm tired. I need some sleep. It's been a long night."
Then he walked into his suite and shut the door.
Huh.
"You owe me an explanation, Anthony!" My voice echoed through the four corners of the sitting room.
"Mrs. Blake."
"Don't you dare call me that." I turned. It was the housekeeper. She looked startled.
"I'm sorry," I said, my shoulders slumped. "It has been a long night."
She smiled. That surprised me. I had just yelled at her.
"Dinner is served, if you wou—"
"I'm not hungry."
I turned and started walking toward my suite.
"Serve it to Anthony."
Then I stormed inside, slamming the door behind me.
~~~~~~~
A few hours later, sleep became impossible.
*Maybe I shouldn't have yelled at him.*
But thinking of what they said, fear crawled through me.
I have every reason to be upset.
I knew I did. But I could have handled it more maturely.
My head started pounding.
Why?
Why was I feeling guilty? He should be the one apologizing.
I shoved off the sheets and sat up. Through the window, the evening moonlight spilled in.
I shrugged and stormed out the door.
All I wore was a pink nightgown that clung to my curves— short, barely reaching my thighs. Almost transparent.
I knew I should have worn a robe. But it was the middle of the night. No one was surely awake.
So, I stepped outside.
The housekeeper had shown me around the penthouse, but my favorite part was the balcony.
It felt like a rooftop oasis, with a cozy sitting area surrounded by lush plants.
I needed fresh air. And since I couldn't sleep, I headed toward the balcony.
When I got there, I saw him. Stark naked from the waist up. He wore only shorts. Heavens, I should have looked away.
But I couldn't.
His body was magnificent—every line and curve carved perfectly.
He must have sensed my presence for he turned slowly.
In one hand, he held a glass of champagne, delicate bubbles rising to the rim.
His long hair was draped roughly around his face, strands nearly brushing his intense eyes.
A frown creased his face, and glares burned in his eyes. But what took my breath away was the scar on his upper shoulder— deep, jagged, visible under the soft moonlight.
"What are you doing here?" he growled.
I jumped at the sound.