Chapter Six
Jasmine
When we reached the most exquisite high-rise hotel, I walked in, more than aware of the stares of disgust from the guests there. That was until they saw who I was walking with. The stares quickly turned to smiles and greetings.
The elevator moved so smoothly I barely felt it, just a slight pressure in my ears as the numbers climbed higher than I'd ever been. Forty-three floors. I'd watched the display count upward, each number another layer of distance between me and the ground, between me and any possibility of escape.
Kade stood beside me in the elevator, not speaking, just a solid presence that made the enclosed space feel smaller.
Theo had stayed in the car, talking on the phone to someone, which meant I was alone with this Alpha in a steel box climbing into the sky.
My fingers kept returning to the business card in my pocket, proof this was real and not some elaborate trap my desperate mind had constructed.
The doors opened with a soft chime, revealing a private hallway with only one door. Of course. The penthouse level. Because why would a billionaire CEO share a floor with anyone else?
Kade gestured for me to exit first, and I stepped out on legs that felt unsteady. He moved past me to the door, produced a key card, and the lock clicked open.
“After you,” he said again, pushing the door wide.
I walked through, and my breath caught.
Floor-to-ceiling windows dominated three walls, offering a view of the city that seemed impossible, and unreal.
The morning sun poured through the glass, making everything glow with warm amber light that turned the space golden.
I could see for miles, could see buildings and streets and the distant curve of the river, all of it spread out like I was standing on top of the world.
I'd never been high enough to see this much sky.
The penthouse itself was nothing like I was expecting.
I'd imagined something cold and sterile; all chrome and sharp edges.
Instead, the space breathed warmth. Deep cognac leather couches that looked butter-soft sat on a rug in shades of burgundy and gold.
Walnut bookshelves lined one wall, filled with actual books, their spines creating a pattern of colors and textures.
The lighting was amber, gentle, casting everything in a glow that felt almost intimate.
My worn coat and multiple layers of threadbare clothing stood out like a stain against all this careful beauty. I felt dirty just standing here, like I might contaminate something with my presence.
“This way,” Kade said, moving deeper into the space.
I followed, my steps small and careful on the hardwood floor. My fingers trailed along the back of one couch as I passed, the leather smooth and cool under my touch. Real leather, not the synthetic stuff. This was the kind that probably cost more than most people make in a year.
Everything here cost more than I could imagine. The glass tables, the art on the walls, the way the light fell through those massive windows. This was wealth beyond my comprehension, beyond the world I knew.
Kade led me down a hallway, past several closed doors, to a room near the end. He opened it and stepped aside, letting me enter first.
The bedroom was smaller than the main living space but still larger than any room I'd ever called my own.
A queen-size bed dominated one wall, covered in white linens that looked impossibly clean.
Blankets and cushions were stacked at the foot of the bed in shades of cream and soft gray, more than anyone could need.
An open dresser full of clothes stood against another wall, simple dark wood that matched the bed frame.
And there, in the corner, was another window, this one offering a view to the east where the morning light was brightest.
“The bathroom is through there,” Kade said, pointing to a door I hadn't noticed. “Towels are stocked. Toiletries are provided. If you need anything else, just ask.”
I turned slowly, taking it in, trying to process that this space was meant for me.
He moved to the bedroom door, placed his hand on the interior handle, and turned it to show me something. A lock. A deadbolt that could only be engaged from inside the room.
“We added it,” he explained, his voice careful and neutral. “To help you feel safe.”
I stared at that lock, at the metal bolt that would slide into place and keep the door closed from the inside. They'd installed it. For me. Before I'd even agreed to come here.
My throat felt tight. “Why?”
“Because you need to feel safe,” he said simply. “Because this is your space now, and no one enters unless you allow it.”
He stepped back into the hallway, putting more distance between us. “Relax. Take your time. Come out for dinner when you're ready. We'll talk about the contract then.”
“Wait,” I said, the word coming out rougher than I intended. “The clothes—” I'd noticed the open dresser, the way it sat there full and waiting.
“Should fit,” he said. “We estimated based on what we saw. If anything doesn't work, we can adjust.”
He'd already bought me clothes. Before I'd agreed. Before he'd even found me this morning.
I wanted to ask how he'd known I would say yes, how he had been so certain I'd come with him. But he was already moving away, already giving me space, privacy, and the option to lock him out.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Before I had the chance to think, there was a knock at the door. I limped over and opened it just enough to see who was standing there. A thirty-something female with a brown leather medical bag, dark hair tied back, and little to no makeup stood smiling back.
“Hello, I’m Laila, your Doctor.” My brow furrowed. Doctor? Why have they sent a doctor? “May I come in?” she asked, nodding toward the door.
I stepped back and opened the door more.
“I’m here to look at your ankle.” She motioned to my ankle as I limped to sit on the bed.
“It’s fine, it will heal eventually.”
She smiled. “Can I still have a look?”
Nodding, I lifted my leg, resting my ankle on the bed. She removed my tattered shoe, then rested her warm hand on my swollen ankle, moving it side to side. I inhaled quickly as a sharp pain shot through it.
“That? Was that the pain?” I nodded. “And this happened a while ago?” I nodded again. “Ah, that’s good.” How the hell can pain be good? I wondered. “It’s certainly treatable.”
I smiled. To live without pain would be somewhat of a dream. “If you did have a small fracture, it would have healed by now.”
“So, what’s causing the pain?” I asked.
“Well, I can’t feel any permanent damage. But you could do with an X-ray.”
My eyes widened. “Does that mean going to the hospital?” She nodded. “I can’t go there. I, I can’t let them find me.”
Her brow furrowed. “Are you in danger, Jasmine?” she asked, placing her hand back on my ankle.
I bit my lower lip. “No, I’m fine now,” I lied.
She nodded and continued to inspect my ankle. “Okay, so, it looks like whatever happened to you damaged your nerve and inflamed the muscle.”
“How do I stop the pain?”
“Rest,” she said. She then looked inside her brown leather bag. “And this...” she pulled out a large needle, and I gulped.
“Err... what’s that for?”
She laughed, probably at the way my face had paled. “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s simply a steroid injection. It will help with the swelling, and once that’s gone down, the nerve should ease back into place.”
“Oh, okay.”
“But I have to warn you, this could happen again if you’re not careful.” I nodded to show my understanding. I wasn’t planning on falling down curbs, or being beaten up again.
After bracing myself, being stabbed and yelping in pain, I listened to her footsteps retreat down the hall. Then I hobbled over, crossing to the door and engaging the deadbolt. The sound it made sliding into place was the sweetest thing I'd heard in years.
Locked. I was locked in, which meant everyone else was locked out.
My hands shook as I turned back to survey the room. My room. At least for now. At least for as long as this lasted before it all fell apart.
I moved to the dresser first, pulled open the top drawer. Underwear, all new, still with tags attached. The second drawer held t-shirts and tank tops in soft fabrics, cotton and jersey, that looked like they'd feel good against my skin. The third drawer — I stopped, my breath catching.
Dresses. Several of them, all folded neatly. I pulled one out, letting it unfold in my hands. It was cotton-soft, with a pattern of small flowers scattered across a cream background. Simple and sweet.
The flowers were tiny, delicate things. Daisies, maybe, or something close to daisies. Like the ones my mother used to grow in the garden behind our house, back when I'd had a house, back when I'd had a mother who sang while she tended her flowers.
My eyes burned. I pressed the dress against my chest, felt the softness, and had to fight back the sudden surge of grief and longing that threatened to overwhelm me.
I set the dress carefully on the bed and moved to the bathroom.
The space was all white tile and chrome fixtures, spotless and gleaming. A shower took up one corner, glass-enclosed with a rainfall showerhead that looked like something from a magazine. I turned the tap, watched water cascade down, and when steam rose, I stripped off my layers.
The coat first, then the fleece, the thermal, and the undershirt that had been white once.
Each layer revealed how thin I'd gotten, how my ribs showed through my skin, how my hip bones jutted out sharp and prominent.
I looked away from my reflection in the mirror, not wanting to see the evidence of how close I'd come to not surviving.