His voice, when it comes, is ice.
"I have an offer for you."
I freeze.
Every muscle in my body goes still. The fight drains out of me, replaced by something cold and wary.
An offer..?
I find my voice. It comes out rough, scraped raw by the day's exhaustion.
"What kind of nonsense are you saying? Just leave me alone." I push the words through clenched teeth.
"Or I'll kick you out of this mansion. Out of this country. I don't care anymore."
He doesn't react. His face remains cold, carved from marble, those blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.
Then, slowly, he releases me.
His hands fall away from my neck, my waist, and I'm free—scrambling off his lap so fast I almost fall. My feet find the floor, find solid ground, and I'm walking.
Walking toward the living room door, toward escape, toward anything that isn't him and his burning eyes and his impossible questions.
I have nothing left. No energy. No fight.
