"Overkill," Killian repeated, like he was tasting the word. "Most women appreciate romantic gestures."
"I'm not most women."
"No," he agreed, and something dark and pleased flickered in his eyes. "You're certainly not."
Isla cleared her throat delicately. "Killian, darling, I was hoping we could discuss the charity gala next month. I'll need a new dress, and..."
"Not now, Isla."
Her smile didn't falter, but I saw her grip tighten on her fork. Point to me, apparently.
"The gardens are beautiful this time of year," Thalia offered, trying to ease the tension. "Perhaps Cassia would enjoy a tour tomorrow?"
"Perhaps Cassia can speak for herself," I said.
Thalia blinked, her kind expression faltering slightly. "Of course. I was just..."
"Being helpful. I know." I softened my tone slightly. Not much, but enough. "Thank you. But I can manage."
"The gardens are off limits," Killian said suddenly. "For now."
I looked at him. "Why?"
"Because I said so."
"That's not a reason."
"It's the only reason you need."
We stared at each other across the table, and I could feel everyone else holding their breath, watching this play out like spectators at a tennis match.
"Fine," I said finally. "I wouldn't want to enjoy myself anyway."
"Careful, Cassia," Killian said softly, dangerously. "There's a difference between spirited and suicidal."
"Is there? Feels the same from where I'm sitting."
Mira made a small noise that might have been a laugh quickly disguised as a cough.
Killian set down his fork carefully, precisely. "Tell me something. Do you have a death wish, or are you just testing me?"
"Maybe both."
"Wrong answer." He stood abruptly, and everyone at the table went rigid. "Come with me. Now."
My heart kicked into overdrive, but I kept my expression neutral. "We're in the middle of dinner."
"Now, Cassia."
I stood slowly, meeting the eyes of each wife as I did. Isla looked triumphant. Nessa looked worried. Vera looked dead inside. Mira was unreadable. Thalia looked genuinely concerned.
I followed Killian out of the dining room, down a hallway, into a study I hadn't seen before. Dark wood, leather chairs, a massive desk covered in papers. He shut the door behind us with a controlled click.
Then he turned on me.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the anger underneath.
"Eating dinner. You invited me."
"Don't play games with me."
"Why not? You've been playing games since the moment you saw me." I crossed my arms. "Or was threatening my fifteen-year-old sister just casual conversation?"
His jaw clenched. "That was business."
"That was sick."
"That was necessary." He moved closer, and I refused to back up. "You think I don't know what you're doing? Pushing boundaries, testing limits, seeing how far you can go before I break?"
"Are you going to? Break?"
"No. But you might."
He was close enough now that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his dark irises, the slight stubble on his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.
"Let me make something very clear," he said quietly. "Out there, with them, you can have your little rebellions. Wear what you want. Say what you want. Give Isla a run for her money. But in here, alone with me, you will show respect."
"Respect is earned."
"Respect is given when someone holds your sister's life in their hands."
The reminder was like ice water.
"You see?" His hand came up, fingers catching my chin like they had in my living room a lifetime ago. "There she is. The scared little girl underneath all that bravado."
I jerked away from his touch. "I'm not scared of you."
"You should be."
"Why? You going to hurt me? Lock me up? I'm already locked up, Killian. I signed your contract. I'm here. What more do you want?"
"Everything." The word came out raw, honest, and it startled both of us. "I want everything, Cassia. Your obedience. Your body. Your thoughts. Your fire. All of it."
"You can't have my fire and my obedience. They don't coexist."
"They will." He stepped back, ran a hand through his hair, and for just a second he looked almost uncertain. Almost human. "You're not like them. The others. They broke too easily or fought too stupidly. But you..." He laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "You're going to drive me insane, aren't you?"
"That's the plan."
"I should send you back. Right now. Give your father his debt and be done with it."
My heart stopped. "Then do it."
We both knew he wouldn't.
"Go back to dinner," he said finally. "Try not to start a war on your first night."
"No promises."
I turned to leave, got my hand on the doorknob when his voice stopped me.
"Cassia."
I looked back.
"The gardens really are off limits. Stay away from them." Something in his expression shifted. "Please."
Please. The word sounded foreign in his mouth.
"Why?"
"Because I'm asking."
It wasn't an answer, but it was more than I'd gotten so far. I nodded once and left, my mind already turning over this new information.
The gardens were important. Forbidden.
Which meant I absolutely had to find out why.
When I returned to the dining room, all five wives stopped their conversation mid-sentence.
"Well," Isla said, examining her nails. "You survived."
"Disappointed?" I asked, sliding back into my seat.
"Intrigued."
Dessert had been served in my absence. Something chocolate and elaborate. I picked up my spoon.
"He's never brought someone into his study before," Mira said quietly. "Not on the first night."
"Is that good or bad?" I asked.
"Depends on what happened in there," Nessa said, leaning forward with interest. "Did he yell? Threaten? Try to seduce you?"
"All of the above."
Vera laughed, actually laughed, a sound so unexpected that everyone turned to look at her. "Oh, you're going to be fun to watch. One month. I give you one month before you either run or break."
"I'll take that bet," Nessa said immediately. "I say three months minimum. Girl's got spine."
"Two months," Mira offered. "And she'll try to run."
"I say she lasts," Thalia said softly. "I think she's stronger than you're all giving her credit for."
"I say," Isla cut in, her voice sharp as a blade, "that it doesn't matter. Because at the end of the day, we're all the same here. We're all his. And no amount of rebellion changes that fact."
The table fell silent.
I set down my spoon carefully. "You know what the difference between you and me is, Isla?"
"Do tell."
"You're trying to survive here. I'm trying to win."
Her eyes flashed. "Win what, exactly?"
"Everything."
I stood, pushing back my chair. "Thank you for dinner. It was illuminating."
I walked out before anyone could respond, before Killian could return, before I had to see the looks on their faces.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.
Back in my room, I locked the door and leaned against it, finally letting myself shake.
What the hell had I just done?
Declared war on five women who knew how to survive here. Challenged a man who could destroy me and my sister with a phone call. Promised things I had no idea how to deliver.
I was either brilliant or completely insane.
Maybe both.
I walked to the window, looked out at the gardens below. The moon was rising, casting silver light across the paths and hedges.
And there, moving between the trees like a ghost, was that figure again.
Young. Male. Moving with purpose toward something I couldn't see.
Who was he? Staff? Security?
Or something else?
I pressed my hand against the glass and made another promise to myself.
I would find out.
I would figure out why the gardens were forbidden.
I would learn every secret this mansion held.
And I would use them all to get what I wanted.
Freedom. For me and for Lila.
No matter what it cost.