Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Chloe
I study my reflection in the floor-length mirror, the dress Louie chose for me clinging to my curves. My cast stands out against the soft fabric that whispers against my skin, a shimmering waterfall of silk that pools at my feet.
A tripping hazard if ever I saw one.
Heels would turn it into an elegant outfit, but those weren’t included in my new wardrobe. Does Louie think I’ll take out my guards with a six-inch stiletto? Or is the excess material intended to tangle me up if I run for it? Or maybe Louie just doesn’t understand how to dress up his doll.
I miss my comfy onesies, but based on all the expensive fabrics in the closet, there will be no animal jumpsuits in my future.
Huffing, I pull up my vibrant pink hair, the cast causing me to fumble with the golden combs that don’t want to stay in place. If I had access to the internet, I’d watch a video on how to use the stupid things, because there has to be a trick to it that I’m missing.
Blake would know. Quinn looked like a little girl who enjoyed all sorts of dress-up, and Blake seemed like the kind of uncle who learned all sorts of girly things to make her happy.
A stab of longing pierces my heart. I hope he and Nathaniel found her and they’re having a princess tea party back on Misty Pines.
The door opens, and my guard pokes her head inside. “Dinner will be served soon.”
I take a deep breath, and set the combs back on their tray, my hair falling down my back. Louie will have to be satisfied with my best efforts. Steeling myself, I yank up the hem of my dress and follow her out.
Cold marble chills my bare feet once I leave the soft carpet of my prison behind. As we walk, I take in my surroundings while trying not to be obvious about it.
My room is at the end of a hall, and we pass a set of French doors on the right that open into a luxurious office. Built-in display cases cover one wall, and the modern furniture appears both expensive and uncomfortable to sit on.
I must be on the guest side of the penthouse.
The hallway opens into a living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that flood the space with gray sunlight. A minimalistic, but plush, sectional sofa faces a low-profile gas fireplace, where pink flames dance. The oil painting above it looks like an original piece.
Doors lead out to a private balcony with a glass railing, providing an unobstructed view of the bustling downtown area of Mosswood below and the storm clouds rolling in from the east. Green shrubs surround a hot tub, while lounge chairs sit beside a firepit.
We walk around a staircase with floating treads into the dining room, where a crystal chandelier hangs over a marble dining table long enough to seat ten people.
The sight of its hard lines makes my heart ache for the comforting warmth of wood at the Homestead. Everything about this penthouse is cold and impersonal. Like a mausoleum instead of a home.
Louie stands from his place at the head of the table, smoothing down the front of his pale gray suit. His slicked-back hair gleams gold as he walks forward, arms outstretched. “Chloe, darling, you look beautiful tonight.”
I want to shrink away from him, but I force my lips into a smile.
“Thank you.” Purposefully misunderstanding his intention, I thrust out my hands, and after a brief hesitation, he clasps them. “There were so many choices in the wardrobe. I wasn’t sure which would be right for the occasion.”
“Anything you wear will instantly become lovely.” He uses our clasped fingers to spread my arms, and his gaze rakes over me. “Just lovely.”
The possessiveness behind the words, like I’m a piece of artwork he acquired, sends a shiver of fear through me.
“Are you cold?” He turns, tucking my arm into the crook of his elbow. “Come, sit close to the fire.”
He walks me down the length of the table to the place setting to the right of his. Here, another pink-flamed fireplace dances in the recesses of a wall, the faint whir of a fan pushing out artificial heat.
Releasing me, he pulls out a chrome chair with a plush, blue-velvet cushion. I move to stand in front of it, lifting my too-long skirt as he pushes it in.
I expect him to resume his seat and jump when cool fingers brush my bare shoulders. “I so hoped you would wear your hair up tonight.”
Glad now that I didn’t, I use the pretense of scooting in a little more to slip out of his touch. “I couldn’t figure out how the combs worked.”
“Perhaps next time you’ll have greater success.” He lingers behind me, making me sweat, before he settles back at the head of the table. “How are you enjoying your room?”
“It’s comfortable,” I lie, struggling to keep my tone light despite the way my skin prickles with unease from being this close to him.
Mere hours ago, this man had made his true intentions clear, to breed me against my will, and no amount of fake kindness now will make me forget.
“I’m glad you’re settling in.” He lifts a bottle of wine from a bucket at his elbow and fills our glasses, passing me one. “It’s a temporary accommodation while I have the suite next to mine prepared. We will be bonded, but that doesn’t mean you’ll lack privacy. I’ll also bring in a tailor to ensure your new clothes fit properly. You’re still so petite. I thought you would grow more over the years.”
My shoulders hunch, my grip tightening on the delicate stem of my glass. Louie’s pheromones pump into the air, curling around me like a poisonous gas as he speaks of the future we’ll have together, where I have no say.
Beneath my placid smile, anger simmers in my veins. I won’t let him control me, no matter how many pretty dresses and fancy dinners he throws my way. I just have to bide my time and play along until I can escape.
Louie sips his wine, his gaze lingering on me over the rim, before he lowers it to ask with feigned concern, “And your arm? How does it feel?”
I resist the urge to rub the cast. It won’t ease the ache and will only draw attention to how my injury puts me at even more of a disadvantage. “It hurts a little, but I’m doing okay.”
“Good,” Louie says, voice dripping with false sincerity. “If you need anything to make you more comfortable, just tell me.”
His words sound like an offer, but I know better. Every favor Louie gives comes with strings attached, a web of obligation that threatens to ensnare me further. That’s how he got to my mother, not that she fought. No, she jumped on his generosity without hesitation, knowing she wouldn’t be the one to pay the price.
Still, I take the opportunity to test the limits of my gilded cage. “Actually, I’m missing a few things, since I couldn’t pack before coming here.”
His eye twitches, and he turns to face me. “Go on.”
My pulse hammers, and I lick my lips. “I was wondering if I could order some hair products, lotions…” Heat creeps into my cheeks. “Suppressants.”
At the mention of suppressants, Louie’s smile vanishes, his eyes turning to shards of ice. The playful indulgence of a moment ago disappears as if it never existed, and his pheromones spike with a possessive edge.
My breathing turns shallow, my muscles tensing.
“You don’t need those,” he says, his voice dangerous. “As I said, we’re to bond.”
My heart skips a beat, and I lower my head. “I just thought you’d want a proper ceremony. It will be easier to plan if I have suppressants.”
A cool finger under my chin draws my head up, and he strokes my cheek. “Ceremonies aren’t what form a bond, darling. You’ll have to forgive my eagerness after so many years of patience. We can throw a party afterward when the official announcement goes out.”
“Of course, I understand,” I murmur, forcing out the bitter words. “Thank you, Louie. You’re too kind.”
He leans back in his chair, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He thinks he’s won, that he has me right where he wants me. Which is good . If he believes I’m already broken, then he won’t be as vigilant.
As a server brings food out to the table, Louie asks, “Have you started writing your next book? I’m excited about the new adventures you have planned with The Fairy and the Dragonlord . It’s such a pleasure to know the most recent release wasn’t the end for them.”
I stiffen, my mind flashing to the hacked social media accounts that have been causing me trouble by over-promising to my fans. Could Louie be behind them? He’s certainly controlling enough.
“I’m working on it.” My hand rises toward my lucky shamrock necklace before I remember it went missing at the hospital.
He arches an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Really? I’d love to read what you’ve written so far.”
Lifting my fork, I poke at the sea bass on the plate. “It’s not ready for other people to see yet. I usually redo the first few chapters once I’m deeper into the story. Where I start rarely turns out to be the beginning.”
“Fascinating.” Louie’s lips curve into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “But as your new agent, it’s my job to keep you on track so that you meet your deadlines and produce the content your fans expect.”
The fork clatters from my fingers, and I bristle at his presumption, anger simmering beneath my skin. “Grady’s my agent. I have no plans to replace him.”
Louie’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. “Your time with Mr. Finch is at an end. You’ve allowed sentimentality to interfere with your career. You could have been earning so much more by now, going on world tours. You need someone who can take charge and help you rise to the top.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand.
“Enough. I’ll be taking over as your agent effective now. As for your next book…” He leans back again, his expression calculating. “I have some ideas.”
At the thought of Louie meddling with my writing, the author inside me shrivels up and dies. But what choice do I have? He holds all the cards.
“I’m sure your ideas will be…illuminating,” I say through clenched teeth. “I look forward to hearing them.”
Louie smirks with satisfaction. “I’m glad you can be brought to see reason. Trust me, darling, I only want what’s best for you.”
Head down, I pick at my dinner, mourning that such dry fish never would have graced Holden’s table. Where are the carbs? I spear a little weed resembling a clover. If this is all we’re eating, I’ll be hungry again in an hour.
Is this another of Louie’s plans? To starve me into submission?
The click of heels on the marble floor draws my attention, and I turn in my chair to see my mother sweeping into the dining room.
“Ah, Vivian, perfect timing.” Louie rises from his seat, a smile spreading over his lips. “We’ve just finished.”
Dismayed, I glance at the half of a filet remaining in front of me, then at Louie’s empty plate. Do I have to race him to the finish line if I want even this much food?
When a servant comes out of the kitchen to clear the dishes, I resist the desire to snatch up the dry fish and eat it with my fingers.
Louie approaches me, his movements languid and predatory. I suppress a flinch as he leans down and places a kiss on the top of my head, his lips lingering a moment too long. “Enjoy your visit with your mother.”
With a final indulgent smile at Vivian, he excuses himself from the room.
Vivian claims my wineglass, her pink eyes—so like my own—assessing me coolly over the rim. “What? No kiss for your mother?”
Fist clenched, I rise and stand on tiptoes to peck her cheek. “Hello, Mother.”
“Such an obedient child.” She turns and sweeps out of the dining room, expecting me to trail after her.
In the living room, she settles in the center of the sofa, leaving me to perch on one of the armchairs.
She leans over to set her small purse on the coffee table. “Is Louie treating you well?”
The resentment that’s been simmering inside boils over. “He has me locked in the guest room. Does this make you happy? Knowing your daughter is a prisoner?”
“Better your own room than his,” she murmurs. “Play your cards right, and you’ll continue to have such freedoms.”
“What cards would those be?” I shake with restrained anger. “Why did you choose now to hand me over to Louie?”
My mother remains impassive, setting down her drink with a clink. “You should be thanking me for saving you from a terrible mistake. Louie is a rich and powerful Alpha. Do you have any idea how many Omegas would kill for this kind of match?”
I clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache. Of course, she would view this twisted arrangement as some grand opportunity. My mother has always been blinded by wealth, status, and her own vices.
Fury churns in my stomach when faced with my mother’s impassiveness. I want to scream, to let loose the torrent of anger and betrayal that’s been building since we were kicked out of my birth pack. Everything good in my life has always been ruined by this woman’s selfishness.
“Who’s my real father?” the question tumbles out before I can stop it.
She casts a disdainful glare in my direction. “Why does that matter now? He didn’t come to save you after the Sinclairs cut us out. Why would he come to save you now?”
She snatches up the wineglass, polishes off the contents, and rises from her seat, her lithe form trembling with rage. “You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed to ensure you have a good future. So listen to me for once and enjoy the life you’re being handed here with Louie.”
Turning from me, she glares toward the dining room. “Where are those blasted servants? I need something heavier than this to drink when dealing with you.”
As she stalks away, my gaze drops to the small purse she left sitting on the coffee table. Heart in my throat, I check to ensure I’m alone, then reach over and grab it with a shaking hand.
My pulse thrums in my ears as I fumble through the contents, searching for a cell phone. Anything to connect me to the outside world, to someone who can help me escape.
But my hopes soon crumble to dust. Lipstick, compact, mints… no phone. Security must have taken it from her at the door.
Despair coils around my chest like a vise, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
About to give up, my fingertips brush against something else. A small, plastic bottle, tucked away in a hidden pocket. I pull it out with trembling hands to read the label.
Suppressants. They’re the emergency kind Omegas only take when their Heat arrives early, which means I won’t be able to hold it off from coming. But with these, I can deal with the Heat before Louie discovers me so far gone that I won’t care which Alpha holds me.
Without giving myself time to second-guess, I slip the bottle into my cast, pain flaring at the added pressure. Then I zip the purse back up and return it to the table.
My heart hammers, terrified I’ll be caught, but for the first time today, I feel a flicker of hope.