Saba bit her lip, weighing her options; the need for freedom clawed at her insides, a burning desire to break free. She also couldn’t risk putting Koda and his team in hot water, so she relented.
‘What’s the protocol for me leaving the house? Should I need to or want to? To buy something, for instance?’
‘You’ve no obligation to do so,Šarim. You can provide me a list, and I’ll deliver it.’
‘So I’m a prisoner in the lodge?’
Koda didn’t answer; he only met her baleful gaze with one of his own as her skin crawled at the truth of the matter.
She was, for all intents and purposes, Mak’s captive.
With an exhale, she tossed her head, pausing to stare at a chandelier that floated midair and sparkled from the ceiling. It lit up the rich tapestries adorning the corridor walls.
Fokkthis shit, she thought to herself, before lowering her gaze to meet the strongman’s humorless gaze.
‘Sante, for your time,’ she murmured to Koda.
Enraged and bristling, she marched to Mak’s office.
The door was half open, and she slipped into the space before he summoned her.
He sat behind his immense oak desk, surrounded by towering bookshelves and ornate paintings.
He had since cleaned up after his training session and now wore a fitted slate-gray tee and dark slacks, the fabric clinging to the lean sinew and coiled muscle beneath. His frame was carved, statuesque; each movement was precise and controlled.
Yet he remained unmoved, a rock in the center of the room, posture relaxed but distant, cold. His expression betrayed nothing as he typed on a virtual pad, gaze locked on the hovering holo screen before him.
She caught the moment he sensed her.
His limbs locked, his face cold and unyielding, his shoulders tightened, his jaw clenched, and his brow furrowed, deep like a storm gathering.
The room was neat and orderly, reflecting his precise and controlling nature.
The expansive windows, curtained by silken drapes, let in light and a breeze, offering dappled views of the stunning, lush gardens beyond.
Saba stood facing his desk as he ignored her for a few moments that stretched for an eternity. Her palms were slick with sweat as she rubbed them together, her heart racing with nervous anticipation.
The thick lump in her throat made swallowing difficult, and her mouth felt coppery with a dry and bitter flavor.
After a wait, he raised his head, his scorching eyes falling on her, cutting through her with a steely gaze, before jerking his chin in silence.
She took a deep breath, overflowing with humiliation. ‘Mak, seems I need your permission to leave the house.’
Hell, the words alone were humiliating.
He ignored her for a beat, eyes swinging back to his work.
‘To go where?’ came the gritting utterance after a long silence.
She had no idea where yet; she just yearned to know if she was free in every sense of the word. She bristled. ‘I want to come and go wherever and whenever I please.’
He scoffed in disdain.
The only noise in the room was the quiet shuffle of papers as Mak turned from his high-tech screen to consult some documents on his desk, his expression unchanged.
His reticence enraged her as the weight of his authority crushed down on her.
The steady ticking of an antique clock in the corner was the only sound piercing the charged tension between them.
