—Tristan— Downstairs, I grabbed one of the pizza boxes before I returned to the guest bedroom in my wing. This time, Eleanor sat on the bed and didn’t look up when I entered. She held the silver nightgown in her hands. “What if I refuse to wear it?” “You can wear your nightgown for the show or be naked. Your blood will look just as enticing against your white skin as it would against the nightgown.” A small shiver rippled through her body, and she let the piece of clothing flutter to the ground at her bare feet. I walked closer. “Here. You haven’t eaten in more than a day.” I set the pizza box down on the nightstand. She eyed it suspiciously. I waited for her to shove it away, to try punishing me by starving herself, like my mother had always tried with our father. It hadn’t worked with him, and it wouldn’t work with me. “I hope it’s poisoned,” she muttered, then reached for a slice and took a big bite. She chewed then raised her eyes t
—Tristan— Damian’s expression was strained, but he wasn’t about to lose his shit again. He was staring into my eyes, no longer at Eleanor. He swallowed then the cold mask took hold of his face and he straightened. “You will have to stitch her up yourself. You played this game and lost. You underestimated your opponent,” he drawled then left, leaving me standing there, fucking furious and fucking ecstatic. I turned around slowly. Eleanor was swaying but trying to stand tall. Her chin was covered in blood from the wound in her lip, from biting down on it to stop a scream. She didn’t give me a single one. My gaze dipped lower. Her nightgown was stained with the blood still trickling from the cut in her arm, which she cradled against her chest. She was supposed to choose differently like all the other women always did. Instead, she’d caught me off guard, had taken the painful road, had forced my fucking hand. She hadn’t given me the triumph of off
—Tristan— After returning Ellie to the guest room, which I locked this time, I was about to start doing my daily training, kicking the punching bag, when Kate stormed into the game room. Damian was close behind her and tried stopping her, but she tore away from his grip and stalked toward me, looking furious. I turned to her, raising my eyebrows. She didn’t stop until she was right in front of me and shoved me hard, her eyes brimming with tears. I caught her wrists because she looked like she would slap me next, and that was something we both didn’t want to happen. A second later, a steely grip closed around my forearm. “Release her now,” Damian ordered. I met his gaze, not liking his tone one bit. His grip tightened further. A warning. A threat. We had never really fought against each other, for good reason, and I would lay my fucking life down before I would allow it to happen. But Kate could be the reason why Damian might risk it. I let go
—Ellie— I lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, worrying about my family, especially Mateo. He was so protective of me, what if he did something stupid like attack and get himself killed? I wanted to be saved but if something happened to Sam, I wouldn’t survive. I’d rather suffer pain and endure Tristan’s presence than see my cousin get hurt. A heavy weight settled in my stomach when I remembered the look in his eyes when Tristan had put the knife against my skin. That look had hurt so much more than the shallow cut. But the cut had given me an important piece of information about Tristan. He had a weakness, and it had something to do with those scars and his brothers. Steps sounded in front of my door and someone knocked. I sat up, surprised. Nobody had bothered to knock. The lock sounded and the door swung open as I stood, and a young woman with dark hair and dark eyes, wearing a yellow summer dress, stepped in. She was shorter than
—Ellie— There wasn’t a clock anywhere in the room, but it must have been early afternoon by now. Except for the cold pizza and the tap water, I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink. Maybe this was another part of Tristan’s game. The sound of knocking followed by the lock being turned made me face the door. I winced at the dull pain in my forearm. A teenage boy in fight shorts and a T-shirt stepped into my room. He had slightly longer curly brown hair and was lean but muscled. “Hey,” he said hesitantly, brown eyes kind. “Tristan sent me to get you.” I didn’t move from my spot at the window. “What are you, his servant?” The boy smiled an unguarded, honest smile. A smile few could afford in our circles. “I’m his youngest brother, but that’s as good as the same in Tristan’s eyes.” He opened the door wider and gestured for me to walk through. I wondered what he would do if I refused to follow him. He was taller than me and definit
—Tristan— I headed for the utility cupboard. Savio leaned against the bar, nursing a drink and his bruised ego. “Next time you should pay more attention.” He glared. “I think from the two of us, you have more reason to worry. She’s yours, not mine. Wait till she tries to boil your dick.” “I can control Eleanor. Don’t worry.” I took a mop and a bucket out of the closet before I returned into the kitchen. Eleanor stood at exactly the same spot, frowning down at the floor. I handed her the bucket and the mop, which she both took without protest. She avoided my eyes as she set out to fill the bucket with water and put it down on the ground. It became apparent pretty quickly that she had never wielded a mop in her life. She used too much water, flooding the floor. Leaning against the counter, I watched her in silence. She should have taken a rag, gotten down on her knees, and cleaned the floor properly, but I knew her pride would stop he
—Ellie— The next morning I took a quick shower, holding my arm out of the stall so it wouldn’t get wet. The painkillers had helped with the sting. I hadn’t expected that kind of consideration from Remo, and I suspected he had ulterior motives for the gesture. The sound of the lock startled me, and I quickly put another one of Kate’s long summer dresses on before I stepped out of the bathroom, my hair still damp and barefoot. Tristan stood with his arms crossed in front of the window, tall and dark and brooding like the love interest in romance movies. He turned and scanned my body. It was unsettling how physical his gaze felt on my skin. “I’m taking you outside for a walk in the gardens.” I raised my eyebrows. “Why?” “Would you prefer to spend your captivity holed up in here?” “No, but I’m wary of your motives.” He smiled darkly. “I want to keep you sound of mind and body. It would be a shame if these four walls bro
—Ellie— The lock clicked and I quickly sat up, bracing myself. I wouldn’t allow Tristan to catch me by surprise again. My eyes widened when Fabian stepped inside, carrying a plate. I stood. Why was he here? Would he help me? Fabian regarded my face then shook his head as if he could read my mind. “I’m bringing you dinner.” He came in but left the door ajar, and I wondered why he did it. I doubted it was so I could run. Was he worried of being alone in a room with me? “Here,” he held out the plate with steaming mac and cheese to me. I glared. “Do you remember how you, Mateo and I played together? Do you remember how you and him pretended to be my protectors? Do you remember that?” For a moment we did nothing but stare at each other, but he didn’t allow me to glimpse behind his emotionless mask. With a sigh, he walked past me and put the plate down on my nightstand. “You should eat,” he said firmly. I whirled around to face him