The warmth of the French toast turned to ash in Elara's mouth. As the fog of the alcohol fully cleared, the reality of the situation crashed down on her. She was in her boss's penthouse, wearing his shirt, being handled like a delicate piece of
property.
The cosy feeling vanished, replaced by the cold, hard instinct for survival that had kept her running from her father for years.
"I can't do this," she whispered, setting the fork down.
Rowan's eyes narrowed, the amber light in them sharpening into something flinty. "Can't do what? Eat?"
"This," she gestured between them. "The tracking, the kidnapping from bars, the... whatever this is. I took this job for independence, Mr. Thorne. But you're just another cage. I quit."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Rowan didn't move.
He didn't blink.
He sat there like a statue of a predator waiting for its prey to stop twitching.
"You quit," he repeated.
It wasn't a question.
It was an insult.
"I'll have my things picked up. Thank you for the breakfast." Elara stood, her legs shaking, and marched toward the bedroom to find her discarded suit.
Once inside the guest room, she scrambled for her phone. Her hands were trembling so badly she almost dropped it. She had six missed calls from Maya.
She dialed back immediately.
"Elara! Oh my god, are you alive?" Maya's voice was frantic. "Leo said some guy in a suit basically abducted you! I was about to call the police, but then this black car pulled up to the apartment and a man told me you were safely indisposed and handed me a thousand dollars for inconvenience !"
"Maya, listen to me," Elara hissed, clutching the oversized shirt to her chest. "I'm okay. I'm at his place. I just quit. I'm coming home, and we're going to figure this out. If I have to leave the state, I will."
"Quit? El, what happened?"
"I'll tell you when I see you. Just... stay inside."
Elara found her suit. It had been cleaned and pressed, hanging in the closet as if it had been there for years. She dressed with fumbling fingers, stepping back into her loafers—the shoes he bought. She hated how perfectly they still fit.
When she walked back into the living room, Rowan hadn't moved from the stool. But the atmosphere had changed. The air felt heavy, charged with the kind of energy that precedes a lightning strike.
"My car is waiting downstairs to take you home," Rowan said. His voice was dangerously calm.
"I'll take a cab," Elara said, heading for the door.
"You'll take the car, Elara," he said, finally standing. He didn't walk toward her; he stayed by the kitchen, but his voice seemed to fill the entire penthouse. "And as for your resignation... I don't accept it."
"It's not a request! I'm an at-will employee."
Rowan let out a short, dark laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "You think this is about a contract? You think I've spent this much time and resources bringing you into my orbit just to let you 'quit' because you got a little spooked by the truth?"
He moved then, a blur of motion that ended with him standing directly in her path to the door. He didn't touch but he loomed, his shadow swallowing her.
"Your father's lawyers contacted my legal department twenty minutes ago," Rowan said, dropping the bombshell with clinical precision. "They're filing for a wellness intervention to bring you back to your hometown. They claim you're mentally unstable and unable to care for yourself."
Elara's breath hitched. "They... they can't."
"They can. And they will. Unless," Rowan leaned down, his face inches from hers, "you are under the protection of a high-profile employment contract with a morality and security clause. My firm. My roof."
He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw, his touch possessive and terrifyingly steady. "You want to quit? Go ahead. Walk out that door. Within two hours, your father's men will have you on a private jet. Or, you stay. You work for me. You live where I tell you. And I make them disappear."
Elara looked into his eyes and saw the truth. He wasn't just saving her from her father. He was using her father's cruelty to finish the cage he had started building the moment he saw her.
"You're a monster," she breathed, her eyes turning red.
"I'm your monster," he corrected, a slow, obsessed smile spreading across his face.
"Now, go home. Pack your things. My driver will pick you and your roommate up at noon. You're moving into the corporate apartments in this building. It's for your... safety."