Victoria's venomous face. The endless, aching servitude. Then Thorne's outstretched hand, a lifeline woven from shadows and steel. The choice felt like tearing myself in two, but only one path led out. Biting back the metallic taste of fear, I placed my trembling hand in his.
Firm grip. Cool skin. And that jolt again, a current thrumming deep inside me, like something ancient stirring from sleep.
His eyes narrowed, just a fraction, holding mine. He saw… something. "Interesting," he murmured, a private thought escaping.
His assistant coughed pointedly. Thorne released my hand, the strange energy receding, leaving my skin buzzing. "The contract will be ready. We finalize this evening," he stated, already turning, the businessman back in control. "My driver will collect you." He strode away, leaving me shaking in the suddenly silent corridor.
Hours later, I was numb, the formal contract a heavy, unreal weight on my lap inside his opulent car. Returning to the mansion felt like entering the execution chamber, armed with a bizarre pardon signed by the devil himself.
Victoria waited on the steps, a gargoyle carved from impatience. Her eyes narrowed at the expensive car, then at me as I emerged, clutching the folder.
"Where have you been? Whose car—?"
Sebastian Thorne appeared from the driver's side. Effortless grace, absolute command.
Victoria froze. Recognition flickered. Then the avarice, the calculation. "Mr. Thorne?" Voice dripping honey. "An issue with the papers?"
He walked to stand beside me, his indifference a palpable chill. "No issue, Mrs. Beaumont." He didn't look at her. "Merely ensuring my fiancée returned safely."
Fiancée. The word dropped like a bomb into the stunned silence.
Victoria gaped. "Fian… Fiancée? Elara? She's the help!"
Finally, Thorne's gaze met hers. Ice. "I am rarely mistaken. Elara accepted my proposal." Each word a precisely aimed dart. "Future dealings regarding her inheritance, or her well-being, are directed through me." The threat hung, unspoken but deadly. "Treat her accordingly."
A curt nod. A brief, unreadable glance at me. "I'll call tomorrow." He slid back into the car, a phantom of power and expensive cologne, and was gone.
Victoria stared after the retreating car, face a mask of warring disbelief and fury. Then, slowly, chillingly, the calculation won. A poisonous smile twisted her lips. No shouting. Not yet. That was almost worse.
But seeing that expression, that thwarted rage... a forbidden warmth sparked inside me. Satisfaction. Heady and dangerous.
Clutching the contract – my bizarre shield, my new chain – I walked past her, head maybe an inch higher than before. I didn't know the rules of this game, didn't know the secrets swirling around the man who felt less human than storm. Didn't understand the hum beneath my own skin.
All I knew was Victoria Beaumont looked lost. And the tide within me was turning. Change was here.