Chapter 13
Everly
I lie in bed, the weight of the past few days pressing down on me. The house is quiet, the weekend stillness wrapping around me like a heavy blanket. I’ve barely seen the dolls since I got back—just polite nods and distant smiles. It’s... fine. Normal. I guess I thought there would be more tension, more conflict, but I’m starting to understand. They’re not here to be my friends. They’re here for Xavier. For what he offers them. And I’m just another piece in the puzzle now.
I turn onto my side, my fingers tracing the edge of the bed frame. The room is softly lit, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the curtains in gentle, golden rays. It’s peaceful, almost too much so. Enough to make me think.
What do I want? The question lingers in my head, an ever-present hum I can’t shake. Xavier’s words poke at parts of me I’d rather leave untouched. I’ve always defined myself by what I do, by the charity work, by Talon, by being the good girl. But now?
Now I’m not so sure.
I think about Xavier, about the way he looked at that painting, about the pain in his voice when he talked about his mother. About the way he let me touch his hand. It was a crack in the armor, a glimpse of something vulnerable beneath. And I want to know more. I want to see more.
But then, there’s the other side of him. The side that controls, that demands, that pulls every string. The side that brought me here. I’m not sure which one scares me more.
I throw the covers off and stand, padded footsteps carrying me to the window. The question circles back, sharper now. What do I want? My old life back? Or something else entirely? Something messy?
I push the thought away, but it clings to me like a shadow. I want to believe I’m here just to pay off Talon’s debt, to survive this until it’s over. But that feels like a lie now. Ever since seeing the gallery, ever since Xavier’s hand in mine, I’ve been... Aware. Of him. Of the way he moves, the way he speaks, the way he sees me.
I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know what it means. All I know is that it’s there, this... thing. This spark. And it terrifies me.
I lean my forehead against the glass. The world beyond blurs, and for a moment, all I can see is him. Xavier. His eyes. I hear his voice, the way he said empty.
What if I want something I shouldn’t? What if I want him?
These thoughts consume my day. No one disturbs me, so I don't even think about leaving my room until dinner comes around. I take my time getting ready, feeling like everything is in slow motion. Distantly, I feel like I should move faster, but I can't bring myself to care all that much. I have more pressing things on my mind.
I stand before the open wardrobe, touching the silken folds of dresses, the smooth drape of blouses. Xavier’s restocked my closet with clothes that don’t belong to me. Not the me I’ve always been. These fabrics whisper secrets, luxurious and alluring.
Could I be the kind of girl who has secrets? Is that who I'm turning into?
At first, it startles me, this invasion of my space. But then, it makes sense. Why wouldn't he give me new clothes? He controls everything else here. Even me.
I scan the options, the jewel tones and rich textures. A silk dress in a deep, rich plum catches my eye—sleeves that fall just off the shoulder, a neckline that dips low but not too revealing. It’s modest, yet not. A compromise between the girl I’ve been and the woman I’m becoming.
I slip it on, the silk skating over my skin like a whisper. The fit is perfect, hugging my waist, skimming my hips. I’ve never owned a dress like this. It feels foreign, yet right, like I’ve shed a layer of skin and found what was underneath all along.
Or something.
I step into a pair of heeled ankle boots. My hair is loose, the waves spilling down my back. A touch of lipstick, something bold yet understated, and I’m done.
When I reach the dining room, they’re already seated. No doll is absent, each more polished than the last, their faces calm, collected. Xavier sits at the head of the table, his eyes flicking up as I enter.
“Good evening, Everly,” he says, his voice smooth as the claret in his glass. “You look lovely.”
I nod at his compliment and take my seat, the chair creaking softly. The table is set with fine china, crystal, and a centerpiece of white lilies that scent the air. The conversation begins to flow, polite and careful, but I’m quiet, my focus on the plate in front of me—roasted duck, seared to perfection.
The first bite of duck melts in my mouth, rich and buttery, but it’s hard to savor with Xavier’s eyes on me. It’s a steady weight. The conversation continues around us—a polite discussion about the upcoming charity gala Winter is attending—but I feel the shift in the room the moment Xavier sets his glass down.
“Everly,” he says, his voice like a velvet-wrapped blade, smooth but dangerous. “You were late.”
The room quiets, the other dolls’ eyes flicking toward me. Lila pauses with her fork halfway to her mouth, Winter’s smile slips, and Sable’s expression remains impassive, but her interest is palpable.
“I lost track of time,” I reply, keeping my tone steady, my focus on the food in front of me.
“Lost track of time.” He repeats it like it’s a foreign phrase, one he’s trying to understand. “That was careless of you. Everyone gathered here at the appointed time and waited for you.”
I lift my head, my eyes meeting his. “I wasn’t aware there was a strict curfew.”
“There isn’t,” he says, leaning back in his chair, though his posture remains anything but relaxed. “But there is courtesy. And respect for the people who share your table.”
Winter shoots me a warning glance, but I ignore it.
“And I appreciate that. But I had things on my mind.”
“Things?” Xavier raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Personal things?”
“Private things,” I correct.
He studies me, his green eyes narrowing slightly. After a moment of silence, he says, “Make sure you're not late next time, Everly.”
“No,” I say, and the word hangs in the air like a challenge.
The room goes still. Sable’s fork clatters against her plate, and Lila coughs softly into her napkin.
“What did you just say?” Xavier’s head tilts slightly.
“No,” I repeat, my voice even. “I won’t promise I won’t be late again. Some things... they take time. And I can’t promise they won’t distract me.”
Winter’s gaze drops to her plate, her shoulders stiff. Xavier, however, seems intrigued. His lips curve faintly, a small, private smile, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table.
“Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice low but sharp. “And what could possibly distract you so thoroughly?”
I don’t answer. The question is rhetorical, a probe to see how far I’ll push. Instead, I return to my meal, the clink of my fork against the plate the only sound I contribute to the conversation.
Xavier’s eyes linger on me for a moment longer before he turns to Winter, asking her about the gala. The conversation resumes, smoother now, but the undercurrent of tension remains. I can feel it in the way the dolls glance at me, in the way Xavier’s attention drifts back to me like a magnet.
And I can feel his curiosity, sharp and keen, like a blade pressed against my skin. All I know is that it’s not anger that's fueling his interest.
I keep eating until I finish my food.
Softly, so as not to disturb anyone else, I excuse myself from the dinner table. As I leave, I notice Winter finishing her meal at the same time, standing up shortly after me. She follows me, her footsteps quiet on the plush carpet. I try to ignore her—our bedrooms are in the same direction, after all—but I know she planned to leave with me.
"Everly," Winter says, her voice low and smooth, catching up with me as I reach my door. Her expression is calm, but there's something almost like admiration in her eyes.
I lean against the doorframe. "You followed me," I state.
She steps closer. "I wanted to talk to you. You were... bold tonight." Her tone is neutral, but there's a hint of approval beneath it.
Before I can respond, Sable appears in the hallway, her footsteps heavier, more deliberate. Her eyes narrow as she takes in the scene.
"Having a heart-to-heart?" she asks sharply.
Winter turns slightly, acknowledging Sable without invitation. "Just offering some advice," she replies, her voice unchanged.
Sable's gaze shifts to me, her eyes piercing. "Advice? Or encouragement?"
I meet her gaze steadily, my heart pounding but my resolve firm. "I don't need encouragement. I just need to be myself."
Sable snorts, a harsh sound. "In this house, being yourself gets you into trouble. You think you're special, don't you? That you can defy the rules and get away with it?"
Winter steps forward, her movement slight but significant. "Sable, she's just—"
"No," Sable interrupts, her voice rising. "She needs to understand how this works. You can't just challenge Xavier and expect no consequences."
I straighten, my voice steady. "I'm not afraid of the consequences. I'm just trying to be honest."
Sable's eyes flash with anger, but before she can respond, Winter places a hand on her arm, a subtle restraint.
"Let it go," she advises, her voice soft but firm.
Sable hesitates, then turns and walks away, her departure as abrupt as her arrival. Winter watches her go before turning back to me.
"Be careful," she says, her voice a whisper of caution. "But... well done."
She pats me on the shoulder, a rare gesture of support, before leaving me alone. I watch her go, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. There's a sense of accomplishment, of standing my ground, that I hadn't expected.
As I close my door behind me, I feel like I've passed a test, even if the path ahead is still unclear.
But I hardly did anything. Would Sable really not speak out against Xavier like that? I saw her get punished. Shouldn't she understand where I'm coming from?
The first thing I do when I'm alone is undress and step into a nightgown. It’s pale blue, simple, with delicate lace trim along the neckline. Not provocative, just quiet and comforting. I fold the dress I wore for dinner and set it back in the closet, my movements slow. I'm so tired. Since I wasn't summoned to the dungeon after dinner, I figure a summons won't come.
I'm grateful for that, to be honest.
The book I brought from my old life sits on the nightstand, its spine familiar and worn. I run my thumb over the raised letters of the title, the gesture grounding me for a moment. Reading always cleared my head, let me escape. Right now, I need that escape.
I flip on the bedside lamp and crawl into bed. I pull the covers up to my waist, then open the book to where I left off, ready to put my thoughts to rest.
The knock comes when I’m halfway through the first chapter, sharp and insistent. It startles me, and I set the book aside, my heartbeat quickening. The house is quiet, and I wasn’t expecting anyone.
I toss off the covers and pad to the door, pulling it open to find a doll I don't recognize standing in the hallway. Her face is impassive, her posture stiff.
“Xavier wants to see you,” she says flatly. Then, with more meaning, she adds, “Upstairs.”
I blink. Upstairs? The second floor is Xavier’s private space, a place I’ve never been invited to. My heart continues to beat fast as I step out of my room and allow her to lead the way. She doesn’t say another word, just turns and walks, expecting me to follow.
The staircase to the second floor curves elegantly upward, the walls lined with framed art that seems more personal than the pieces downstairs. The doll stops at a door I hadn’t noticed, one that blends seamlessly into the wall. She pushes it open, gesturing for me to enter.
The room beyond is nothing like the rest of the house. It’s warm, intimate, with soft lighting and plush furniture in muted tones. And there, sprawled across a low-slung leather couch, is Xavier.
He’s not in one of his tailored suits or even a shirt. His loungewear is simple—black drawstring pants and a matching tank top that clings to his broad chest. His hair is mussed, his jaw shadowed with stubble. For the first time, he looks... human.
His eyes meet mine, and I hear the doll behind me slip away, closing the door softly. I’m alone with him now, painfully aware of how his pants cling to his bulge.
Fuck, focus!
“Everly,” he says, his voice lower, rougher than usual. “Come here.”
I don’t move. “You wanted to see me?” I ask, my tone cautious.
He sits up. “You were late. And then you defied me. In front of the others.” His voice is calm, too calm. “Care to explain?”
“Because I need to assert who I am,” I say before I can second-guess myself. “In your world, with your rules, it’s easy to lose yourself. I don’t want to disappear just to fit into whatever this is.”
Xavier’s expression doesn’t change, but I can see the gears turning in his mind. He leans back against the couch, his broad frame casual, unguarded in a way I’ve never seen before. “And is that the only reason you acted out tonight, Everly? To prove you still exist?”
The question feels like a trap, but I don’t know the safe answer. “What else would it be?”
He tilts his head, studying me with an unnerving intensity. “You’re not like the others. But that doesn’t mean you get to defy me without a reason.”
“I told you my reason.”
“No, you told me part of it.” He stands fluidly and takes a step closer. His proximity makes the room shrink, the air thicken. “Is it because you’re planning to leave?”
Leaving? Of all the things I’ve thought about today, leaving—really, truly leaving—hasn’t been one of them.
“No,” I say, my voice steady despite the frantic rhythm of my heart. “I’m not leaving.”
He raises an eyebrow, as if daring me to prove it. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I said so.”
A faint smile plays on his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And why should that mean anything to me?”
“Because I’m still here.”
A charged silence follows his words, thick with unspoken meaning. He remains motionless, doesn’t speak. Then, with a small nod, he steps back.
“You can go.”
I hold my ground for just a beat before turning, my legs feeling weak as I reach the door. By the time I step back into the cool, quiet hallway, I’m left with gnawing questions: what just happened? Is he afraid I'll leave?
And what did I just unlock in him?