We reached the top of the stairs in silence, the only sound our footsteps on the marble and the pounding of my heart. The hallway stretched before us, leading back to my luxurious prison.
"Why not just lock me in a normal room?" I asked suddenly. "Why all the..." I gestured vaguely at the opulent surroundings.
Rafe glanced at me, something like amusement flickering in his eyes. "Would you prefer a cell? Bars on the windows? A mattress on the floor?"
"I'd prefer to not be a prisoner at all."
"You're not a prisoner, Grace. You're a guest who hasn't accepted her invitation yet."
I laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. "Is that what we're calling kidnapping these days? An uninvited invitation?"
We reached the door to my room—my cell—and Rafe paused, turning to face me fully. "This isn't forever," he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle. "Just until you understand. Until you accept what's happening between us."
"And if I never do?"
His expression hardened slightly, the vulnerability of moments ago disappearing behind a mask of control. "You will. Because deep down, beneath all the fear and anger and confusion, you feel it too. This connection. This inevitability."
He opened the door and gestured for me to enter. I hesitated, looking down the hallway one last time, measuring the distance to the stairs, calculating my chances.
"Don't," Rafe said quietly. "Please don't make me restrain you, Grace. I don't want to do that."
The threat was clear, despite his gentle tone. If I ran again, there would be consequences. The relative freedom I'd had within my gilded cage would be restricted further.
With a defeated sigh, I stepped back into the room. Rafe followed, closing the door behind him but not locking it—a pointed reminder that locks were a formality, not a necessity. He could control me without them.
"Your escape attempt was impressive, by the way. Well-timed. Strategic. You almost made it."
I stared at him, incredulous. "Are you... complimenting me on trying to escape from you?"
He smiled slightly. "I'm acknowledging your intelligence and resourcefulness. Qualities I've always admired in you."
"Don't do that," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. "Don't talk like you know me. Like this is some kind of... of relationship."
"But it is a relationship, Grace." He set the tray down and turned to face me fully. "Unconventional, yes. Difficult, certainly. But a relationship nonetheless. And like any relationship, it will evolve. Change. Grow."
"Into what?" I asked, genuinely curious despite myself.
His expression softened, something warm and almost tender replacing the clinical detachment. "Into something neither of us can fully imagine yet. Something powerful. Something necessary."
He stepped closer, and this time I didn't back away. I was too tired, too defeated, too confused by the swirl of emotions his words evoked.
"I know you don't believe me now," he said, his voice low and intimate. "But you will. In time, you'll understand that everything I've done—everything I'm doing—is because we belong together. Because some connections are too important to leave to chance or choice."
He reached out slowly, telegraphing his movement, giving me time to pull away. When I didn't, his fingers brushed my cheek in a touch so gentle it made my breath catch.
"You were quiet that last night at home," he said, tone deceptively casual. "Didn’t toss or turn once. Slept like a dream."
My breathing faltered, just slightly.
He went on. “You were so good at lying still for me. Now look at you—running like your body doesn’t still remember.”
That ache. The dull pulse I’d felt in the morning, the wetness I’d chalked up to another too-vivid dream. It hadn’t made sense at the time. Nothing had. I’d felt... wrung out. Like I’d been unraveled in the night and only half-stitched back together by morning.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I snapped, but my voice betrayed me, thin and splintered. I already knew.
He laughed—low, satisfied. “I couldn’t help myself. Those little pink shorts and a tank top. No bra. You didn’t even flinch when I approached you. Just sighed and turned toward me like you knew I was supposed to be there.”
I wanted to scream. To rewind. To disappear.
