The morning light bled through silk curtains, pale and fragile, but Alicia felt anything but free. Her body ached in that delicious, unbearable way only Liam could leave her skin still sensitive, lips bruised, thighs weak. She shifted slightly under the heavy sheets of his bed, every movement reminding her of the night before, of his hands holding her down, his voice whispering commands she obeyed even when she wanted to resist.
But it wasn't the soreness that made her chest feel tight. It was Chloe's voice echoing in her head from last night's brief, whispered call: "Tomorrow. Be ready. I'll help you."
Alicia swallowed, forcing the thought down. She couldn't afford to look unsettled. Liam was too perceptive. He noticed the shift of her breath, the flicker of her gaze, the slightest hesitation in her words. To survive here, she had to perform.
She sat up, smoothing the sheets, combing her fingers through her tangled hair. The penthouse was too quiet. No ticking clocks. No city noise, even though Manhattan stretched just beyond the glass walls. Just silence. A silence that pressed in like a cage, reminding her that she wasn't truly free here.
The door opened. Her heart stuttered.
Liam stepped in, crisp in a dark suit that molded to his broad frame, tie loosened just enough to suggest the morning had already bent to his will. His gaze swept her body instantly, possessive and sharp. A slow smirk curved his lips.
"You're awake," he said, voice velvet-dark. "Good girl."
Heat rippled through her despite herself. She hated how those words pulled at something low in her belly, how her thighs pressed together instinctively. He walked toward the bed, setting down a tray of strawberries, croissants, and black coffee on the nightstand.
"I don't recall giving you permission to sleep so late," he added casually, but his hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her lip as though testing if she'd bite.
Alicia forced herself to smile, to keep her voice steady. "You wore me out last night."
The smirk deepened. His thumb pressed harder against her bottom lip, until she parted it for him. He slipped his thumb inside, dragging it slowly across her tongue before withdrawing. "And yet," he murmured, "you're still not broken. I like that."
Her stomach knotted. Was that praise, or a warning?
He fed her a strawberry next, fingers brushing her lips deliberately, eyes fixed on her face as if daring her to look away. She chewed slowly, forcing herself to meet his gaze, when all she wanted was to curl away from the intensity.
"Eat," he ordered, sliding the tray closer. "You'll need your strength."
For what? she almost asked. But she didn't. Questions like that always led to him circling closer, pressing harder, until she gave away more than she intended. So she ate. One bite, then another, careful, measured, pretending she was at ease.
Inside, her mind churned. Chloe's text. The plan. Don't mess this up.
The day stretched long and strange, painted in black marble and glass. A maid brought Alicia a fresh set of clothes, a silk blouse, a pencil skirt, lingerie that wasn't hers but fit her perfectly. Liam's selection, clearly. She dressed slowly, every brush of silk on her skin feeling like another reminder that he curated her life down to what touched her body.
When she slipped her phone into her skirt pocket, her pulse jumped. Chloe had texted. She turned slightly toward the window, shielding the screen.
Tomorrow. Be ready.
Her throat tightened. It was real. Not a dream. Chloe hadn't abandoned her. Relief crashed into her so strongly she almost cried. She typed quickly: Okay. Tell me how.
The moment she hit send, a prickle of fear shot through her. Was Liam watching? Did he have the phones monitored? She shoved the device back into her pocket, trying to breathe normally.
She forced herself through the hours like a ghost, sitting on the cream leather sofa with a book she didn't read, sipping tea she didn't taste. Staff moved quietly in and out, but none looked her in the eye. She wondered if they knew. If they pitied her. If they thought she was just another beautiful captive who would eventually lose the will to fight.
The sharp click of the front door unlocking sent her pulse skyrocketing. Too soon. He wasn't supposed to be back yet.
Liam walked in, jacket already discarded, shirt sleeves rolled up, tie hanging loose. His presence filled the room instantly, suffocating and magnetic. He tossed his phone on the counter, then looked at her.
"Come here."
Her body obeyed before her mind had the chance to resist. She set the untouched book aside and crossed the room, her heels clicking softly against marble.
He pulled her straight onto his lap as he dropped into the armchair. His hand slid under her skirt immediately, claiming, possessive, as though reminding her exactly who she belonged to.
"Tell me," he murmured against her ear, lips brushing, "what did you do while I was gone?"
Alicia's breath hitched. Her heart pounded so violently she was sure he could feel it through her chest.
"I… read," she said softly. "Drank tea. Waited for you."
"Mm." His hand moved higher, teasing, dangerous. "And nothing else?"
Her stomach flipped. He was testing her. Interrogating her, wrapped in seduction.
"Nothing else," she whispered.
His fingers pressed harder. "Good girl. But I'll know if you're lying."
Her nails dug into the armrest, her body trembling between fear and the dangerous pleasure he coaxed from her. She wanted to cry, to confess, to beg, but she forced her face to remain smooth. If he found out about Chloe, everything would shatter.
He made her straddle him, lips claiming hers fiercely, his tongue sliding deep, forcing her to respond until her head spun. Every kiss felt like a trap, each moan he pulled from her another secret slipping from her control.
When he finally pulled back, he studied her face with sharp eyes, as though peeling back her layers. "You belong to me, Alicia. Every breath. Every thought. Don't ever forget that."
Her chest ached. She nodded. Smiled weakly. Lied through her teeth.
Dinner was another performance. Liam cut into his steak with surgical precision, sipping wine slowly, while Alicia tried not to tremble under his gaze.
Her phone buzzed once in her pocket. She excused herself to the bathroom, locking the door with shaking hands. Chloe's reply lit the screen.
Tomorrow. Be ready. Midnight.
Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped the phone. Midnight. It was happening. She was getting out.
She shoved the phone into the drawer of the vanity, as though hiding it from Liam's eyes, then splashed cold water on her face.
When she returned, Liam was leaning back in his chair, watching her with that predator's calm.
"You flushed," he said softly. "Why?"
Her heart nearly stopped.
"It was warm in there," she managed, forcing a laugh. "Too much wine, maybe."
He rose slowly, walked around the table, and cupped her chin in his hand. His thumb stroked her bottom lip again, the same way he had that morning.
"Careful," he murmured, eyes dark and endless. "You know I can smell lies."
Her throat closed.
Then he kissed her, slow and searing, stealing every bit of air from her lungs until she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't remember who she was beyond his touch.
When he finally pulled back, his voice was almost casual. Almost.
"Tell me, Alicia," he said, brushing a lock of hair from her face, "who were you texting earlier?"
The blood drained from her face.
Her heart stopped.
And she knew, she wasn't as hidden as she thought.