Chapter 8 8

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse.

It was a cavernous space. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Tribeca skyline. The furniture was sparse, modern, and cold. Gray velvet, black marble, chrome. It looked like a museum, not a home.

Dorian carried Ines to the massive sofa and set her down.

He walked to the wet bar and poured two fingers of amber liquid. He downed it in one swallow. He needed to burn away the image of that knife at her throat.

He returned with an ice pack and the medical kit.

He knelt on the floor in front of her.

"Legs," he commanded.

Ines hesitated. Her dress was ruined, riding up her thighs.

Dorian rolled his eyes. "I've seen it all before, Ines. Don't be shy now."

She extended her legs. Her knees were scraped raw from the fall.

He cleaned them with efficiency. His hands were gentle, despite his rough words. He bandaged the worst of the cuts.

"Shower," he said, pointing to a hallway. "There are clothes on the rack. Use the guest bath."

Ines nodded. She limped to the bathroom.

It was larger than her entire apartment. The shower was a rainfall style with six jets. She stood under the scalding water for twenty minutes, scrubbing the smell of the projects and the thugs' hands off her skin.

She dried off and found the clothes. There was no dress. Just a white button-down shirt. His shirt.

She put it on. It hung to her mid-thighs, the sleeves swallowing her hands. She rolled them up.

When she walked back out, Dorian was on the balcony, talking on the phone. The glass door was open.

"...freeze all of Silas's accounts. I want him destitute before he leaves the state," Dorian was saying. "And get me the number for Dr. Aris. The throat specialist."

Ines froze. He was looking for a doctor for her?

Dorian hung up and turned. He saw her.

His eyes swept over her, taking in the wet hair, the oversized shirt, the bare legs. His gaze darkened.

He walked back inside, sliding the door shut.

He picked up a new phone from the coffee table and handed it to her.

"It's encrypted," he said. "My number is the only one saved."

Ines took it. She typed quickly. Thank you. I will pay you back.

Dorian let out a harsh laugh. "Pay me back? With what? Maid wages?"

Ines flushed. She typed: That is my problem.

Dorian stepped closer. He placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head, trapping her.

"Silas said you belong to me," he murmured. "Since I'm absorbing your debts, that makes you my asset. Assets don't have problems. They have owners."

Ines glared at him. She pushed against his chest. He didn't budge.

He leaned down. His lips hovered a breath away from hers.

"Tell me," he whispered. "Why did you run three years ago? Tell me the truth, and I wipe the debt."

Ines's breath hitched. She remembered the night. The file she had found. The conversation she had overheard between his father and the senator. The reason her family had been framed.

If she told him, it would destroy him. Or he would kill her to protect the family.

She couldn't take that risk.

She looked away and shook her head.

Dorian pulled back. The heat in his eyes vanished, replaced by a wall of ice.

"Fine," he said. "Guest room is down the hall. Don't make a sound."