The elevator ride was silent, except for the sound of my own frantic breathing. Kyle didn't look at me. He didn't have to. His arm was still locked under my knees, his other hand pressing my shoulder into his chest. He felt like a furnace, a wall of pure, arrogant heat that I couldn't escape.
The doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing a penthouse that looked more like a museum than a home. White marble floors, black leather furniture, and glass walls that showed off the entire glowing skeleton of Milan.
He didn't put me down. He walked across the vast living room toward a hallway of dark wood doors.
"Put me down, I can walk," I snapped, my voice sounding thin in the high-ceilinged room.
"I like you right where you are," he replied, his voice a low, dangerous vibration against my back. "It's easier to keep track of a thief when she's off the floor."
He kicked open a door at the end of the hall and finally let me go. I hit the mattress of a massive, king-sized bed. It was soft, smelling of that same expensive cedar and soap, but I scrambled backward until my back hit the headboard.
Kyle didn't leave. He stood at the foot of the bed, slowly unbuttoning his cuffs. He watched me with the steady, unblinking focus of a hawk watching a mouse.
"This is your room," he said, tossing his cufflinks onto a dresser with a sharp clack. "There are no cameras in the bathroom, but don't get any ideas about the windows. They're reinforced. Even a bullet wouldn't crack them."
"You can't do this," I said, clutching the silk sheets to my chest. "This is kidnapping. My people will come looking for me."
Kyle let out a short, dry laugh as he pulled his shirt from his trousers. "Your 'people'? You mean the three different gangs you've scammed in the last year? Or the foster parents who haven't seen you since you were twelve? Don't lie to me, Val. It's insulting."
He stepped closer, crawling onto the edge of the bed. I tried to move, but he was faster. He grabbed my ankles and hauled me toward him until I was lying flat on my back, looking up at him. He hovered over me, his arms locked on either side of my head.
The air between us turned heavy. I could see the faint stubble on his jaw and the dark, possessive fire in his eyes.
"You're going to be my 'fiancée' for the next few months," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "I have a merger to close, and I need a woman on my arm who knows how to lie. You're perfect for the job."
"And if I refuse?"
He leaned down, his lips grazing my jawline, sending a traitorous spark of heat through my body. "Then I call the police. I give them the ring, the watch, and the fingerprints I found on my safe three weeks ago. You'll rot in a cell where nobody will ever hear your voice again."
His hand moved from the bed to my throat, his thumb tracing the line of my chin. It wasn't a choke; it was a caress that felt like a threat.
"But if you play your part... if you belong to me completely... I might let you go when I'm bored of you."
"You're a monster," I breathed, my heart thudding so hard I was sure he could feel it.
"I'm a Vanguard," he corrected, his grip tightening just enough to make me gasp. "We don't play fair. And we never, ever lose what we've claimed."
He stood up abruptly, leaving me cold and trembling on the bed. He walked to the door and paused, his hand on the light switch.
"Get some sleep, Val. Tomorrow, we start your transformation. I want you looking like a queen when I show you off to the world."
The lights went out, and the heavy thud of the door locking from the outside echoed through the room. I was alone in the dark, trapped in a place of luxury and stone, owned by a man who looked at me like I was his favorite sin.