Evelyn froze at the door, the words still echoing in her ears. Strip.
The command was sharp, cold, a blade disguised as a voice. She gritted her teeth, clutching the edge of her gown, her lips trembling slightly as she swallowed the rising fear.
How dare he. How dare he speak to me like that, she thought. But deep down, she knew she had chosen this path herself. Still, anger burned in her chest.
Stephan Quinlan didn't smirk like Silas would. No, he was different—dangerous in a quiet, deliberate way. His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, his tall frame looming over her, shadowing her with a weight that made her chest tighten.
"Hmph," he murmured, watching her like she was some puzzle he couldn't yet solve. "I didn't pay a million to stand there staring at me."
The tone of his voice made her blood run cold. "Get to work," he added, each word heavy, commanding, like a warning carved into steel.
Evelyn didn't move. She only rolled her eyes, defiance sparking in her heart despite the fear.
Stephan tilted his head, a faint frown crossing his face as he studied her. Then, with an effortless motion, he grabbed her wrist. Iron. Unyielding.
She gasped, her pulse spiking. His grip was like chains, cold and merciless, dragging her forward as she struggled, each movement proving useless. With a swift motion, he shoved her onto the bed.
"I didn't know today's…" His voice softened for only a moment before he finished, "…pet would be feisty."
Evelyn's hand shot up, slapping him instinctively. Her chest heaved with indignation. How dare he call me that? she thought, her blood boiling. I am no one's whore.
Stephan's eyes flicked sideways, his lips curling slightly before his palm shot out to grasp her chin, tilting her face toward him. She gasped as his fingers dug into her skin.
"How dare you," she murmured, defiance and fear tangled in her voice.
He only smiled, a slow, cruel curl. "I can't hear your apology."
Minutes—or was it hours?—of tense struggle passed. When he finally released her chin, she coughed, rubbing the sting where his fingers had pressed.
He leaned closer again, pressing her shoulder into the mattress. Evelyn's stomach churned. She could almost hear Tyler's voice warning her, but she swallowed it down. One mistake here, and she could be ruined.
Her wig shifted, brushing against her forehead. In a moment of clumsy movement, it slipped off entirely, revealing her platinum bob.
For a heartbeat, time seemed to stop.
Stephan's eyes narrowed, and a smirk danced at the edge of his lips. "A detective spy, huh?"
Evelyn's blood ran cold. She wanted to pull back, to run, but his grip was unrelenting. He dragged her toward the door, her body stiff with fear. Each step echoed ominously as bodyguards looked away, bowing, as if she were nothing but a shadow on their path.
The door swung open, and the scent of cigarettes, whiskey, and sharp cologne hit her like a punch to the chest. Her heart raced violently. What have I gotten myself into?
Stephan made her kneel, his hand still in her hair, while the men around her murmured, intrigued by the disturbance. Evelyn's eyes scanned the room, drinking in the danger. These men weren't ordinary. These men were predators.
"And what do we do with this…spy?" Stephan's voice cut through the dark like steel.
A figure stirred in the shadows, his presence immediately different. Calm. Too calm. Evelyn's gaze locked on him before her brain could fully process.
Stephan noticed her reaction, his grip tightening momentarily. But before he could comment, the figure's voice emerged—a deep, commanding sigh that made her insides twist.
"I'll give you ten million dollars," the figure said. "Let the…pet go."
Evelyn froze. Pet? Women are called pets here? The word clawed at her pride, making her cheeks burn. And the voice—it was familiar. Too familiar.
Stephan's smirk deepened. "You're lucky you heard him clearly. Otherwise, you'd be in a world of pain right now."
Some of the men protested, eager to continue the torture. Others murmured in agreement. Evelyn's stomach churned.
The figure in the corner finally moved, silent as a shadow. He didn't glance at her. He didn't even flinch as the rough men tried to manhandle her.
"Be gentle. She has fragile bones," the figure ordered.
The man obeyed, but Evelyn's pulse was deafening in her ears. Every nerve in her body screamed—something about him, his aura, his presence, made her tremble.
The figure walked toward the chair opposite her, finally sitting down with deliberate ease. He crossed his legs, picked up a glass of whiskey, and the dim light caught his face.
Evelyn's breath hitched.
Her heart stopped.
Dark hair. Sharp, piercing eyes. Soft lips. That voice. The way he moved—too familiar, too calculated.
Her mind froze. No… it can't be…
He sipped the whiskey slowly, then set it down with precise calm. And finally, his eyes met hers.
"Evelyn Ashford."
Her knees nearly buckled. She whispered, barely audible, "S…Silas Montclair?"
The room seemed to shrink around her. Everything—the fear, the chaos, the danger—collapsed into that single, terrifying moment.
Silas Montclair.
Alive. Watching.
And now, nothing would ever be the same.
Stephan, standing behind Silas, raised a brow.
"You… you two know each other?"
Silas didn't answer. His eyes didn't leave hers. They burned into her, cold and assessing.
"She's my… detective," he finally said, voice low, almost deadly calm. "Looking for a clue from me. And she found one."
His gaze swirled over her, taking her in like a predator studying its prey.
Stephan sucked his teeth, irritation clear. "She slapped me."
Silas tilted his head slightly. "As expected. She's… feisty."
Evelyn's fists clenched at her sides. Her nails dug into her palms, and heat rushed to her cheeks. Feisty? She wanted to crawl under the floor.
Silas's dark eyes flicked toward her again, calm and calculating.
"You're lucky Silas saved you," Stephan hissed, disgust lacing his voice, before storming away.
Evelyn's gaze followed him, then snapped back to Silas. She was still on the floor, her make-up smudged, her hair disheveled. She probably looked like a witch now.
Silas exhaled audibly, mockery lacing the sound.
"Applaud yourself," he said, his tone both teasing and dangerous. "You really went this far… just to look for me."
Her throat burned, words trapped somewhere deep inside her. She shook her head, trying to regain composure.
"Or," he continued, crouching slightly as he picked up his glass of whiskey, "is this an excuse to get closer… or finish some unfinished business from last night?"
Evelyn's lips parted, but no sound came. Her mouth was dry, her voice gone.
Silas noticed immediately. With deliberate care, he brought the glass to her lips.
"Drink."
Her eyes widened in horror. Whiskey. Was he serious? Her first instinct was to recoil. She'd never touched a drop of alcohol in her life.
Silas didn't wait for an answer. He stood again, towering over her as his dark gaze swept across the room. The men continued their work around them, discussing deals, smuggling, and other illegal business, but she barely registered it.
"You've found your evidence, Evelyn," he said softly, almost to himself, "what will you do with it?"
Her eyes flicked up at him, wide, trembling. "Did… did you also know I'd be here?"
A slow, almost predatory smile curved his lips.
"Something tells me…"
He walked past her slowly, each step deliberate, eyes never leaving her form.
"You didn't expect to see me here," he murmured, "judging by the shock on your face."
He stopped abruptly. His expression shifted—something darker, sharper, almost like jealousy cutting through the calm.
"Did you… come for Stephan?"
Evelyn swallowed hard, closing her eyes. Her throat burned. Her chest heaved. She couldn't speak, couldn't move. And yet, she knew he could feel every tremor, every shiver, every heartbeat that threatened to betray her.
The room seemed impossibly quiet. Every sound of clinking whiskey, murmuring men, even her own ragged breath echoed like thunder.
Silas stood there, tall, flawless, terrifying. And for the first time, Evelyn realized—this wasn't just a confrontation. This was a test. And she was already on the edge.
Evelyn forced a smile, keeping her trembling lips steady.
"Are you… jealous now?"