The prescribed dress was soft against her skin, the skirt brushing her knees as she stood in the foyer, the marble leeching warmth through her thin soles, waiting for her friend’s arrival.
She'd been looking forward to this almost all week. For the first time since coming to Thorn Manor, she was waiting for someone who would make her feel like herself again.
Just two days ago, she'd woken in a clinic bed with Liam Thorn's blood under her nails. The rest came back in fragments—the knife, the sound of her own scream, the moment everything had stopped making sense. Even now, she couldn't put it all together without the memories slipping away.
She had not seen Mr. Thorn since, and Lisa would be here any minute.
She pressed her palm flat against her stomach until the tension eased enough to pass for calm.
The day after the attack had been strange. Elena had woken in her room at the manor, disoriented and exhausted, the events of the previous day still hazy in her mind. She'd lain in bed for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the knock that never came. No Liam. No summons. No command.
Presley had informed her over breakfast that Mr. Thorn was away on business and that she had the day off. The idea felt strange. A weekday off. Nothing she needed to do. She didn't know what to do with herself, so she drifted into the kitchen, where Marta was already reviewing a stack of invoices at the center island.
“You look lost, child,” Marta said without looking up.
“I have the day off, and I'm trying to think of something to do.”
Marta finally glanced at her, a small smile appearing on her face. “Then I have just the thing for you.”
She pushed a stack of invoices across the island.
“Come sit. You can help me with these.”
Before Elena could protest, Marta slid a clipboard across the counter.
“Delivery order arrives in twenty minutes. Pantry stock, garden supplies. Housekeeping requested extra linens. Someone has to make sure everything ends up where it belongs.”
Elena glanced over the pages. “You handle all of this?”
“Most of it.” Marta tapped the stack with one finger. “If I don't, things have a way of disappearing into the wrong cupboard.”
Elena smiled. “And Mr. Thorn just expects it all to happen?”
Marta gave her a look. “Men like Mr. Thorn tend to assume food appears when they're hungry.”
Elena laughed.
Marta's mouth twitched. “Don't tell him I said that.”
“I thought you weren't afraid of him.”
“Afraid?” Marta finally looked up, one eyebrow raised. “I've worked in this house long enough to know the difference between being afraid of a man and knowing when to let him think he's in charge.”
Elena paused. “What do you mean?”
Marta gave a small shrug and turned back to her list. “People talk like he's unpredictable. He isn't. Not once you take the time to understand him.”
Elena leaned against the island. “I'm not sure that's possible.”
“No?”
“He barely tells me anything. Half the time, I don't know what he's thinking.”
Marta smiled faintly. “Mr. Thorn doesn't make a habit of explaining himself.”
“That seems like an understatement.”
Marta gave a quiet laugh. “Perhaps.” She turned another page, making a small note beside one of the orders. “You just learn to pay attention.”
“To what?”
Marta thought for a moment. “His moods, mostly. When he wants something done, when he doesn't want to be bothered.” She shrugged. “Small things.”
Elena glanced at her. “And that tells you what he's thinking?”
“Not always.” Marta smiled. “But it helps.”
Elena considered that, then looked down at the invoices in front of her. “I still don't know what to make of him.”
Marta's expression softened, almost amused.
“Most people don't bother to understand him,” she said simply.
Twenty minutes later, a delivery truck rolled up the drive.
What followed was several hours of carrying crates, sorting inventory, and putting away enough supplies to feed the household for weeks. Marta directed the entire operation without ever seeming to raise her voice.
“Pantry.”
A maid carried the first box inside.
“Cellar.”
Another followed.
“Kitchen. And watch the glassware.”
Elena picked up a box and followed the others inside.
“On the shelf,” Marta called.
Elena moved to a shelf and set it down.
“No, child. The other shelf.”
Elena sighed and moved it.
“I need that one there.” She pointed to a different shelf.
She looked over her shoulder. “You could have said that the first time.”
“But where is the fun in that?”
Elena shook her head, but she was smiling as she picked up the next box.
A few minutes later, Marta caught her trying to stack two small crates on top of each other.
“Not those together.”
“Why not?”
“They’re too heavy to stack safely.”
Elena glanced at the crates. “They look sturdy enough.”
“Even if they are. The jars inside them aren’t.”
By midmorning, Elena had stopped arguing and simply followed instructions, though Marta still found new reasons to correct her whenever she could.
Between deliveries, Marta showed Elena parts of the manor she hadn't seen before. Storage rooms tucked behind the kitchens. A walk-in freezer larger than Elena's old office. A greenhouse on the west side of the kitchen, where herbs grew year-round beneath glass and carefully controlled heat.
"You actually use all of this?" Elena asked. Thinking of all the food.
"Of course."
"For how many people?"
"Depends on the week." Marta checked an inventory sheet. "Staff. Security. Guests. Sometimes business associates."
Elena eyed another pallet waiting to be unloaded.
"I'm beginning to think Mr. Thorn owns enough food to survive an apocalypse."
"That wouldn't surprise me," Marta said with a smile.
The morning passed more quickly than she'd expected. The work was simple, the conversation easy, and for a few hours she found herself doing something she hadn't done much since arriving at the manor:
Living. Not worrying or planning.
Just living.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of library corners and sketchbook pages. She moved between shelves and sunlit windows, claiming quiet corners of the manor like they were her own. Books were opened and forgotten, sketches started and abandoned, the hours passing easily enough that she stopped noticing them at all.
Now Friday was here, and the clock read eleven forty-nine, and Elena was back in the grand hall, waiting for the first piece of her old life to step through the door.
The front door was solid oak, dark and heavy, with iron hinges that looked older than the country itself. Elena examined it while she waited. Imagine Lisa on the other side, probably already buzzing with energy, probably already talking to the gate guard about his haircut or his car or the way the sunlight caught his sunglasses. That was Lisa. She turned every interaction into an adventure.
As if her thoughts could summon her, Elena's phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out.
Lisa: At the gate. This place is INSANE. Tell me there's a moat.
A laugh escaped her, quick and startled. She typed back: Elena: No moat. Disappointed?
Lisa: Devastated. Be there in 2. Prepare for hugs.
Elena smiled, thinking of Lisa’s tight hugs and how she missed them. Pocketed the phone. Took a breath.
Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned.
Liam stood at the base of the grand staircase, one hand resting on the banister. He wore a blue suit, tailored as always, the jacket open over a white shirt with the top button undone. No tie. The collar sat loose at his throat, and her gaze caught briefly on the faint bandage still visible beneath the fabric.
The faint bandage beneath his shirt was enough to remind her of what had happened. Her breath caught, and for a moment, she forgot to breathe.
“You’re back,” she said, keeping her voice as even as she could.
“I am.” His voice was steady, low, unhurried—like nothing had shifted in the world at all. “Are you ready for your guest?”
She gave a small nod. Neither of them moved for a moment, the silence holding until a vehicle sounded outside, drawing closer to the front drive.
Liam came to stand just behind her left shoulder. Close enough that she felt him before she registered him.
She kept her eyes on the grand oak doors, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest. She hadn't realized how tense she'd become until his hand settled gently against the small of her back.
“It's okay,” he said quietly.
The touch was light and controlled. His palm rested against her back, steady and warm, and somehow the simple contact eased some of the tension from her shoulders.
Elena glanced down at his hand, then back at the doors.
The doorbell chimed—deep and resonant—and she startled slightly.
Liam withdrew his hand and turned toward the door. His movements were calm but efficient as he crossed the foyer and opened it himself.
Lisa stood on the threshold, a splash of vibrant color against the grey stone and stormy sky. Her black hair was streaked with electric blue and bright pink, falling loosely over her shoulders and the straps of her tattered backpack. Her eyes went wide as she took in the soaring ceiling, the chandelier, and the sheer scale of the entryway.
“Holy shit, El,” she breathed, a grin spreading across her face.
Then she looked at Elena, and her eyes went even wider. “Oh damn, I don't think I've ever seen you wear something so cute in your life.” Her gaze traveled over the dress. “What hunk got you to do that?”
Then her gaze landed on Liam. Elena watched the change happen. Lisa's assessing, appreciative look. The slight tilt of her head. The way her posture shifted from awed tourist to something a little more interested.
“You must be Mr. Thorn,” Lisa said, stepping inside and extending a hand. “Elena's talked so much about this amazing opportunity. I'm Lisa.”
“Please, call me Liam,” he said, taking her hand and bringing it up to press a gentle kiss to the back of it.
The gesture made Elena twitch. He was being unusually friendly with her. His voice had that low, pleasant baritone he used with clients, warm and polished.
“Elena has been an invaluable addition.” He continued.
He released Lisa's hand and let his arms fall naturally to his sides.
“Lisa. I’m so glad you’re here.” Elena chimed in.
“Are you kidding? This place is insane.” Lisa’s eyes darted around, missing nothing. “An internship? You hit the jackpot and didn’t even tell me the details!”
“It happened very quickly,” Elena said, the rehearsed lines feeling like ash in her mouth. “Mr. Thorn’s company already helps create support for emerging artists. My background lined up with what they needed.”
“She’s modest,” Liam interjected, his hand secretly shifting behind Elena’s form from Lisa’s sight, his thumb making a slow, deliberate arc against her spine. “Her eye is exceptional. I knew I had to secure her exclusively.”
Lisa laughed, a bright, easy sound. “That sounds like Elena. Always the best, but never the braggart.” She looked at Liam, her gaze openly admiring. “And you’re, what, mentoring her? Personally?”
“Personally,” Liam confirmed, his blue eyes holding Lisa’s for a beat too long before returning to Elena. His hand remained. “I take a very personal approach with her development.”
“Personal, huh.” Elena could hear Lisa half-mumble, half-giggle under her breath. Something she was unsure if Thorn had heard.
Elena stood between them, wearing the costume, speaking the lines, feeling the memory of his hand burn through the fabric. She saw her oldest friend seeing the beautiful, convincing lie, and the part of her that was still Elena Rossi quietly folded in on itself, becoming part of the scenery.
“Shall we give Lisa the tour?” Liam’s voice cut through the performance. He gestured toward the grand hallway leading deeper into the manor. “The grounds are particularly striking before a storm.”
Lisa beamed. “Lead the way, Mr. Thorn.”
Elena fell into step beside Lisa as Liam led them through the manor. He showed them the familiar spaces—the cavernous, book-lined library, the severe study with its monolithic desk, and the formal dining hall with its table large enough to seat twenty.
He offered brief explanations as they went, each delivered with the same detached precision, as though he'd given the tour a dozen times before.
“The foundation's archival collection,” he said as they entered the library.
Lisa oohed and ahhed at the appropriate moments, but Elena noticed her attention kept drifting toward the floor-to-ceiling windows and the darkening sky beyond them.
“And outside?” Lisa asked, her curiosity piqued.
Liam's mouth curved into a faint, approving smile. “Of course.”
He led them back downstairs and through a set of doors at the rear of the dining hall. They opened onto a wide stone balcony, and the wind caught them immediately, carrying the scent of ozone and wet pine.
Below, the land fell away toward the slate-grey water. Elena had seen the lake from the windows of her room, but from here she could finally see how far it stretched. The water disappeared into the distance beneath the darkening sky.
A flagstone path wound down through the grounds toward a private dock, hidden from the view of her room. A large white sailboat strained against its lines, rocking gently as the wind began to pick up.
“The estate's greatest asset is the view,” Liam said, his voice nearly lost beneath a distant rumble of thunder.
Elena gripped the cold stone balustrade. From here, there was no glass between her and the landscape. The lake, the forest, the distant mountains—it all seemed to stretch endlessly around the manor.
Lisa leaned out over the railing, her colorful hair whipping across her face.
“This is unreal. You get to look at this every day, El?”
Elena looked out over the estate again.
Lisa wasn't wrong. She'd had access to almost all of it. No one had chained her to the manor. The doors had never been locked against her, and no one had ordered her to stay in her room. She could walk the corridors, spend hours in the library, wander through the kitchens, or sit outside whenever she wanted. In every practical sense, she'd been free to enjoy the place.
So why had she felt trapped?
She thought back to the one time she'd crossed a boundary.
She'd wandered too close to the hallway leading toward Liam's private quarters when Presley had appeared. He hadn't rushed to stop her or treated her as though she'd done anything wrong. He'd simply told her, politely and without explanation, that no one entered that section without Mr. Thorn's direct permission.
And that had been enough.
She hadn't needed a locked door. She'd understood the boundary the moment he'd spoken it.
Before Elena could form an answer, Liam was moving again, leading them along a covered walkway that ran along the side of the manor. They rounded a corner, and Elena stopped.
Tucked against the house was a secluded courtyard, partially hidden by tall shrubs. A rectangular pool stretched across the center, its dark surface rippling beneath the wind. Beside it, a sunken hot tub sent curls of steam into the cool air. Plush lounge chairs and a seating area beneath a large cantilevered umbrella completed the space.
Elena stared. She'd never known any of this was here.
“A more casual amenity,” Liam said, his eyes on Elena’s face, watching her discovery. “Though sadly more rarely used.”
Lisa laughed, walking over to dip her fingers in the hot tub. “Man, if I lived here, I’d be in this thing constantly. With a drink.” She looked back at Liam, her expression playful. “You ever have pool parties, Mr. Thorn?”
“The foundation has hosted benefactor events here,” he said, his gaze sliding from Lisa to Elena. “I plan for Elena to assist with the next one.”
The memory of the swimsuit tightened something in her stomach, its little coverage creating a pit in Elena’s stomach. Now she was sure of its purpose.
Lisa’s smile didn’t falter, but she seemed to register the tension thrumming in the air beside her. She looked at Elena, really looked, her playful glint softening into concern. “Are you okay? You’re quiet. Quieter than usual.”
Elena opened her mouth, a denial ready. But Liam spoke first, his voice a gentle, intrusive blanket. “The internship has been demanding. She pushes herself tirelessly. She has deserved this respite.” He took a step closer to Elena, not touching her, but his presence was a wall surrounding her. “Perhaps we should move inside. The rain is coming.”
The moment the words left his mouth, as if on command, a few fat, cold drops began to fall, splattering on the stone.
Lisa nodded, pulled her jacket tighter, and took the lead, heading back toward the manor.
Elena followed beside Liam as they turned toward the doors. The rain was beginning to fall harder now, pattering against the stone and darkening the path behind them.
Liam guided them back into the foyer. “The conversation can continue over lunch,” he said, his tone shifting back to that of a gracious host. “I’ve had something prepared in the dining room. Lisa, I’d like to hear more about your work.”
They followed him through the archway into the dining hall, where the table had already been set for three.
Lisa took in the place setting before looking back at him. Her eyes lit up at the invitation. “I’m a graphic designer. Freelance. Mostly branding for indie bands and small galleries and businesses.”
She slipped into one of the chairs. “It’s chaotic, but I love it.”
Lisa took the seat Liam held out for her. A staff member served chilled soup and delicate sandwiches while Lisa launched into stories about difficult clients and last-minute deadlines, her hands painting shapes in the air as she talked.
Liam listened with unusual attentiveness, asking precise questions about software, branding, and market viability. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, and Lisa clearly appreciated the attention.
It was strange seeing him like this. She was used to the controlled, reserved man who rarely offered more than necessary. With Lisa, he seemed genuinely interested. He kept asking questions, listening closely to her answers, and somehow always found another reason to keep her talking.
“And your personal life?” Liam asked, taking a sip of water. “Such a demanding schedule must leave little time for relationships.”
Lisa laughed, a little too brightly. “Oh, you know. Here and there. Nothing serious.” She glanced at Elena, a silent question in her look. “What about you, Mr. Thorn? This incredible house feels… very solo.”
“My focus is my work,” he said, his eyes sliding to Elena as Lisa looked away to take a bite. His glance returned before she looked up. “And the development of my investments. It requires singular attention.”
Investments.
Something about the word made Elena's stomach tighten. She lowered her eyes to her glass and traced the rim with one finger, suddenly aware of the condensation against her skin.
Lisa, emboldened by the wine she'd been poured, leaned forward. “So this mentorship. Is it, like, all work? Or do you two ever… unwind?”
The air in the room changed.
Liam set down his fork and looked at Lisa. His expression remained calm.
“Elena is under considerable pressure to excel,” he said. “She's done well so far.”
Lisa waited.
“She has a great deal to learn, and I'm particular about how I run things. Clear expectations. A consistent routine. It works well for both of us.”
His tone left no room for the conversation to go where Lisa had tried to take it.
Elena glanced at Lisa. The playful smile had faded from her face. She looked between them for a moment, then lowered her eyes to her plate.
“Right,” Lisa said slowly. “Well. It sounds intense.”
She picked up her spoon again, but the teasing edge was gone.
Liam paused, his attention resting on Lisa for a moment. Whatever he'd seen in her expression seemed to satisfy him.
"All meaningful things are, Lisa," he said, standing.
He straightened his jacket, then glanced toward Elena.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to. Please enjoy your visit. I'll leave the afternoon to yourselves." He gave Lisa a polite nod. "A pleasure."
Liam left, and the room seemed quieter without him. Rain drummed steadily against the windows.
Lisa stared at the doorway for a moment before turning back to Elena. The playful expression she'd worn earlier was gone.
"El," she said, tilting her head. "What the hell is really going on here?"
"It's exactly what it looks like," Elena said. The lie came smoothly now, practiced enough to sound almost convincing. She forced a small, tired smile. "A demanding internship with a brilliant, demanding man. I'm just... adjusting."
She traced a finger through the condensation on her glass, avoiding Lisa's searching eyes.
Why did I say brilliant?
Lisa studied her for a moment, her head still tilted.
"Okay," she said slowly. "I mean... I guess I can see that."
Elena looked up.
Lisa's eyes flicked toward the doorway again, then back to her. "He's just..." She searched for the right word. "A lot."
A reluctant smile tugged at Elena's mouth.
"A lot?"
"Yeah. Very intense." Lisa gave a small shrug. "I wasn't expecting that."
She paused, then grinned.
"But god is he H-O-T!" She pushed back from the table, her playful glint returning. "Anyways, can I see your room? I need to see where the magic—or the grinding pleasure—happens."
"There’s no grinding pleasure, L," Elena said with a sigh. She only called her L when she was being ridiculous.
Getting up from the table, Elena led her upstairs.
Lisa's gasp when she stepped into the suite was genuine. "Holy shit, El. Is this a room? For an intern? This is practically a penthouse!"
She rushed toward the wall of windows and pressed her hands against the glass. "This view. It's like you're living inside a painting." She paused, staring out at the darkening sky. "A stormy, terrifying painting, judging by what's happening outside."
The rain was coming down harder now, and thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. The storm seemed to be moving in fast.
She disappeared into the bathroom, and Elena heard another, louder gasp and yelling from the attached bathroom. “A soaking tub? And this shower? Your bathroom is bigger than my kitchen!” Lisa popped her head back out, her eyes wide. “Okay, the internship is officially worth it. I don’t care how intense he is. You get to relax in here every day.”
Elena sat on the edge of the vast bed, the duvet impossibly soft beneath her hands. She could still feel the ghost of Liam's thumb against her spine.
"It's just a room, Lis."
The familiar nickname came more naturally. It was the one she used when Lisa was simply being Lisa.
“It’s not just a room,” Lisa mocked, flopping onto a plush armchair. She kicked off her shoes, tucking her feet beneath her. “It’s a statement. And so is he.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “So. Spill. There’s something there, right? Between you two? All that ‘hands-on approach’. That did not feel like just boss energy.”
Elena’s heart thumped once, hard. “It’s just professional. He’s my employer. That’s all.” The deflection came out clearer than she expected. So she grasped for a new subject, directing it back to Lisa. “Tell me about the new gallery project you mentioned. The one with the neon installations. How’s the branding going?”
Lisa’s expression shifted, a flicker of something unusual crossing her face before she covered it with a bright smile. “Oh, it’s great! The client is a nightmare, wants everything to ‘vibrate with existential angst’ but also be ‘commercially viable.’ You know the type.” She launched into a detailed story about font choices and color theory, her hands sketching shapes in the air. The details, the frustrations. Elena listened, nodding in the right places, listening to her long story.
Lisa opened her backpack. It definitely looked worse for wear, but the expensive laptop inside was spotless. She pulled it out, opened the lid, and tapped a few keys.
A dark window appeared briefly, showing a username field and several lines of system information. Before Elena could make sense of it, Lisa closed the window and quickly opened her graphic design software instead.
"Sorry," Lisa said, settling on the bed and leaning back against the headboard. "Wrong program."
She pulled up the diagrams she'd been working on and turned the laptop slightly toward herself.
Elena leaned closer, the laptop screen's glow washing over her face. The design was a riot—neon pink slashes cutting through a field of deep violet, fragmented text overlaid on a distorted photograph of a downtown alley. It was raw, ugly in a way that hurt to look at, and absolutely beautiful at the same time.
"The kerning on the manifesto text is too tight," Elena said, her voice barely above a whisper, her finger hovering over the pixel of a stray semicolon.
Lisa grinned, her fingers flying across the trackpad to adjust it. "Knew you'd catch that. You're the only person who speaks font." The compliment landed like a warm stone in Elena's chest, solid and real in a world of silk and shadows.
Lisa launched into the backstory—the client's wife hated the color, the gallery director wanted something "softer," the whole project was a war between commerce and vision. Elena listened, nodding, offering a sharp critique here, a laugh there. She traced the arc of a neon brushstroke on the screen, her thumb pressing against the glass as if she could reach through and touch the world on the other side.
The two talked for hours. Sharing stories back and forth about clients, art, and Lisa talking about the guys and girls she recently had ‘advantures’ with. Art was the one topic the two could go on for hours. Though their tastes were different, with Elena favoring classical and older arts. Lisa loved the modern and vibrant designs, even enough to argue that most graffiti should be legal. As long as it looked good enough.
Outside, the rain intensified, sheeting down on the window and blurring the world outside into grey and green smears. Lisa’s story wound down. She looked at Elena, her gaze softening.
“You love the actual art, El. It’s exactly the kind of raw, boundary-pushing stuff we used to hunt for.” The words ‘used to’ hung in the air, a quiet indictment.
“What makes you think I stopped?” Elena laughed.
“You can tell me, you know,” she said, her voice barely audible over the rain. “If there's something—
*BOOM* - A large crackling sound interrupted her from outside. Both of them looked out the window. The sky was dark, and the wind was bending and pushing the trees heavily. Lisa stood, walking back to the window. She watched the storm for a long, silent minute.
"It's getting bad," Lisa said, her breath fogging the glass. "I should probably head out before it gets worse."
Elena's hand shot out, gripping Lisa's wrist. "No. It's too dangerous. Driving up here in this?" She shook her head, the movement sharp. "I'll ask Mr. Thorn if you can stay."
Before Lisa could object, Elena ran out the door. She hurried through the house until she found him in his study. After a quick knock and a quiet response, she stepped into a room of work and silence. Liam looked up from his tablet, his blue eyes catching the low light.“Your friend shouldn't drive out in this storm,” he said.
“Yes, that's why I'm here. May she stay the night?” Elena asked, her voice measured, though it wasn't coming across as much of a question.
“Of course. Hospitality is a given.” The answer came immediately. “I do not have a spare room, only servant quarters, which are not suited for a guest. You will need to share your room with her.”
“Thank you, that won't be a problem,” she instinctively let out, a quiet sigh of relief escaping her. She'd expected this to be much more difficult.
As she started to turn, his voice cut in.
“I command you to join me for dinner and to wear something nice. Eight o’clock, down in the dining room,” he ordered. “Marta tells me we have a special meal planned for our guest.”
“Okay.” Elena nodded, preparing to turn.
“No.” The single word stopped her. She turned back, a questioning look crossing her face.
“I think you’ve forgotten our agreement. Let this be your one warning. If it happens again, there will be consequences.”
Recalling their verbal contract, she quickly stiffened. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” she said, lowering her head slightly.
“You’re dismissed. See you at dinner.” There was something almost approving in his tone.
Returning to her room, she told Lisa the news that she could stay and of the upcoming dinner plans.“Oh, a dinner date! I brought my bag and have something cute to change into. You gotta change too!” Lisa said, already skipping over to the wardrobe.
She pulled the doors open and stopped.
“Oh, my God.” Her eyes swept over the rows of clothing inside, her excitement quickly turning into disbelief. She reached out, running her fingers over the nearest dress before glancing back at Elena. “This stuff is expensive!”
Lisa starts to rummage through the clothing. “The clients I meet are important, so I had to upgrade my wardrobe.” She quickly slipped out of the lie. “This is what’s recommended and provided to suit the job’s needs.”
“What about your other clothing—” She cut herself off as she opened one of the drawers in the wardrobe. Her eyes went wide as she looked into her underwear drawer.
“W-what kind of clients do you handle? I’ve never seen you in anything more than plain granny panties and plain bras.”
I've never worn granny panties!” Elena quickly interjects.
“And you’re still saying there’s nothing between you two?!” Lisa asked in complete disbelief, holding up a pair of lace panties. “None of this is making sense, El.”
“Alright! I read an article that said wearing sexy underwear could help me feel empowered. So I bought a bunch, and you know what? It’s working!” Elena scrambled for another lie as she stepped forward and took the underwear from her.
“Whoa, I’m sorry, El!” Lisa said quickly, catching the flush spreading across Elena’s face. “Here, let me make it up to you. I’ll make you look super cute.”
She reached into the wardrobe and started searching through the hanging clothes. A moment later, she pulled out the black dress from Valerius.
“This one. Definitely this one.” She held it up against Elena with a grin. “Let’s get you dressed and make you look cute for our gracious host. We don’t have much time, so let’s get moving.”
The two girls hopped into the shower and quickly washed up. Drying off, they dress in their outfits. Elena, after putting on the ‘sexy’ panties, puts on the black dress. Its corset front pressed against her breasts, making them sit higher than normal.
Lisa pulled a red party dress from her bag. The top formed a deep V that dipped between the breasts before rising to meet the straps over her shoulders. The back was equally revealing, cut down to the center of her back. The skirt fell to her knees, giving the dress a playful but elegant length.
The sleeves were attached to the sides of the dress while leaving her shoulders bare. Made from sheer fabric, they stretched down her arms and ended in small loops that slipped around her middle fingers.
Both girls stood in front of the mirrors, having just finished putting on jewelry from the jewelry box in the bathroom. “Damn, we look amazing,” Lisa said, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” she said, letting out a sigh of her own.
Across the room, the two women continued getting ready for the evening. One adjusted the strap of her dress while the other leaned toward the mirror, carefully fixing her makeup. Their laughter drifted through the room, light and effortless.
Elena watched them for a moment.
They were dressing up for her boss—the man who had taken everything from her.
At least, that was what she had told herself.
But had he?
The question surfaced before she could push it away.
Liam hadn’t locked her in her room. The door wasn’t barred, and the windows weren’t sealed shut. No one had chained her to the house or threatened her whenever she tried to leave.
She was here because she had agreed to be here.
Because Marco’s debt had to be paid, and this was the only way she could pay it.
That was the deal.
Elena lowered her gaze, twisting her fingers together in her lap.
Three years.
She had known exactly what she was agreeing to when she signed the contract. Three years of working for Liam in exchange for wiping away Marco’s debt. Three years, and then she would be free.
So why did it sometimes feel as though she was giving up more than her time?
Her freedom, perhaps.
Her choices.
Maybe even pieces of herself she hadn’t realized she was surrendering.
Elena looked toward the window, watching the fading light stretch across the glass. The question lingered in the back of her mind, growing heavier the longer she tried to ignore it.
Maybe that was what bothered her most.
She couldn’t tell anymore where the debt ended, and everything else began.
He gave her space. Gave her clothes. Gave her food that tasted better than anything she’d had in months. He spoke to her like she mattered. Like her work mattered. Like she was worth his time.
And he had protected her.
The memory of the man with the knife flickered, sharp and sudden. Liam had stepped in without hesitation. Without fear.
Her grip tightened slightly in her lap.
Surely a captor wouldn't do that, she thought. But the thought didn’t settle the way she wanted it to.
Because captors didn’t usually ask. They didn’t guide. They didn’t make it feel like a choice. Her stomach tightened.
He hadn’t needed to lock the doors. He had just… removed the idea of leaving.
Walking into the dining room, Elena found Liam Thorn already standing behind a chair, two spots prepared in front of him. One set on the other side. Elena looked at him with surprise on her face. He was wearing something she had never seen before.
Liam had changed into a dark green sweater that softened the lines of his shoulders, his figure still standing strong. When he saw them both, his eyes widened slightly, a rare crack in his usual composure. His attention shifted to Lisa. Looking over her form in the red dress.
“You both look beautiful.” He proceeded to pull out the chair in front of him. First, letting Lisa sit, then pulled out the chair for Elena. Walking around the table, he sat down across from them.