Chapter 4 A Cage lined with Gold

Isla woke up to the sensation of silk against her skin and the faint scent of cedar and expensive cologne lingering in the air.

For a brief moment, she was suspended between dreams and reality, her mind grasping at the remnants of sleep before the weight of her situation crashed down on her. She wasn't home. Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up abruptly, her heart hammering in her chest. The room was expansive, larger than any bedroom she had ever seen, bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through sheer white curtains.

The walls were a muted gray, the furniture sleek and modern.

Everything about the space screamed luxury from the plush bedding beneath her fingers to the chandelier casting intricate shadows along the ceiling.

And then she saw the door. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she stood quickly, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpet. She was still wearing the clothes from last night, slightly wrinkled but intact.

A flicker of relief passed through her before panic took hold again. She was a prisoner here. Adrian had taken her. She crossed the room in hurried strides, fingers curling around the cool metal handle. With a sharp inhale, she turned it. Locked. A strangled sound of frustration left her throat as she rattled the knob.

Her pulse pounded in her ears as she pressed her forehead against the door, willing it to open, willing this nightmare to be some elaborate mistake. "Going somewhere?" The deep, velvety voice sent a shiver down her spine.

Isla whirled around to find Adrian leaning casually against the doorway of an adjoining room, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He was dressed in a crisp white dress shirt, the top button undone, revealing a hint of tanned skin.

His dark eyes gleamed with amusement as they traced her frantic movements. "Unlock the door," she demanded, masking the fear in her voice with forced bravado.

Adrian tsked softly, pushing away from the doorway. "And here I thought you'd at least enjoy breakfast first."

Her jaw clenched as he sauntered toward her with effortless confidence, stopping just inches away.

She refused to shrink beneath his towering presence, though every instinct screamed at her to put distance between them. "I don't want your breakfast. I want out."

His gaze darkened, the amusement fading just slightly. "That's not an option." Isla swallowed against the lump rising in her throat. "You can't keep me here." He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear with a touch far too gentle for the storm brewing in his eyes. "I can, and I will."

She slapped his hand away, her breath coming in sharp bursts. "Why? What do you want from me?" Adrian exhaled slowly, as if reining himself in. "I want you to understand that the world you stepped into isn't as forgiving as you think.

You've poked a bear, Isla, and now I'm the only thing standing between you and those who would rather see you dead." She hated the way his words sent a chill through her bones, hated that a part of her knew he wasn't lying.

But she refused to accept his control. "So what? I'm your prisoner?" He studied her for a long moment before stepping back.

"Think of it as... protective custody." A humorless laugh escaped her lips. "Right. Because that sounds so much better." She turned back to the door, pressing her forehead against it. There had to be another way out. A window, a hidden passage something.

Adrian's voice came softer this time. "There's nowhere to run, Isla." Her fingers curled into fists. "Watch me." Isla spent the next few hours testing every possible escape route.

The windows reinforced glass. The vents too small. The door unbreakable. The penthouse was a fortress, designed to keep people out. Or in. By the time she heard the lock click, signaling Adrian's return, she was seething with frustration.

He stepped inside, carrying a tray of food fresh fruit, toast, and a steaming cup of coffee. The sight of it made her stomach twist in both hunger and defiance.

"You really should eat," he remarked, setting the tray on a small table.

"You'll need your strength." She folded her arms. "For what? Being your captive?" He sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "For surviving." There was something in his tone that gave her pause.

A quiet intensity. As much as she despised him, she couldn't shake the feeling that he truly believed he was keeping her safe. That whatever danger lurked beyond these walls was far worse than being trapped here with him. Still, she couldn't let herself trust him.

"I'm not playing your game, Adrian." His lips twitched as if her defiance amused him. "Oh, Isla," he murmured, stepping closer.

"You've been playing since the moment you stepped into my world." Heat coiled low in her stomach, an unwelcome response to his nearness. She hated that her body reacted to him even as her mind screamed to resist. "I don't belong to you," she whispered.

His fingers brushed along her jaw, tilting her chin so their eyes met. "Not yet." A slow shiver ran down her spine. She was trapped in his world, a prisoner in a cage lined with gold. And Adrian was the devil who held the key. Isla refused to accept her fate.

Even if Adrian had locked every door, sealed every window, and ensured that she had no means of escape, she would not simply surrender. Her body might be confined within the walls of his luxurious prison, but her mind was still her own. And she would fight.

After Adrian left, she took the time to explore her surroundings more carefully. She wasn't looking for just an escape route anymore she was studying him. The way his world operated. The things he valued. If she wanted to get out of this, she needed to understand the man who had stolen her freedom.

The penthouse was vast, but it felt more like a museum than a home. Everything was pristine, carefully arranged, and devoid of any true warmth. She ran her fingers along the marble countertops in the kitchen, noting the state-of-the-art appliances that looked barely used.

The bookshelves in the grand living area were filled with expensive first editions, but she wondered if he had actually read them or if they were just for show.

The artwork on the walls, likely worth more than her entire apartment, depicted stormy seas, wolves, and dark forests images that made her wonder if they were chosen intentionally or if they simply reflected something about him that she had yet to decipher. It was all designed to impress. To exude power. But beneath it, there was something cold. Something lonely. Not that it mattered.

She wasn't here to analyze Adrian Blackwell's soul.

She was here against her will, and she had to get out. The thought reignited her frustration, and she strode back toward her bedroom no, the room he had given her. She refused to think of it as hers. When she reached the door, she tested it again, but the result was the same. Still locked.

A low growl of frustration left her throat, and she turned to the only other possible exit the door leading to the ensuite bathroom. She hadn't explored it yet, and though she doubted it would lead her to freedom, it was worth checking. To her surprise, the bathroom was unlocked. She stepped inside, momentarily distracted by the sheer extravagance of it.

The bathtub alone was something out of a dream, deep and wide with golden fixtures that gleamed under the soft lighting. The glass-walled shower was large enough for several people, and the scent of expensive soap and aftershave lingered in the air.

It was a space designed for indulgence, for pleasure. And yet, it was still a part of her cage. She turned toward the mirror, her reflection staring back at her.

There were dark circles beneath her eyes, a testament to her exhaustion.

Her hair was disheveled, her clothes slightly wrinkled from sleeping in them. But beneath the fatigue, her determination burned strong. She wasn't going to break.

A sudden sound from the other room made her tense. She turned off the bathroom light and pressed herself against the wall, listening carefully. Footsteps. Slow. Measured. Adrian. Her pulse quickened as she heard him enter the bedroom.

She could picture him standing there, surveying the space, perhaps amused by whatever futile attempts she had made to escape in his absence. Then his voice cut through the silence. "Hiding won't get you very far." She exhaled slowly, steadying herself before stepping back into the bedroom. He stood near the bed, his gaze locking onto hers the moment she emerged.

He looked effortlessly composed, as always, his presence commanding without him needing to say a word. "I wasn't hiding," she said, lifting her chin. "I was thinking."

His lips curved into a faint smirk.

"Dangerous habit." She crossed her arms. "Are you here to tell me I'll never escape again? Or did you just come to gloat?" He tilted his head slightly, studying her. "Neither."

He moved toward her with that same calculated grace, and though every instinct told her to step back, she forced herself to remain still. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her retreat. "I came to see if you'd come to your senses," he murmured. She narrowed her eyes. "Meaning?" His gaze flickered to her lips for the briefest second before meeting her eyes again.

"Meaning, fighting me is exhausting. You'll see that soon enough." Her stomach tightened at his words, not just from the implicit threat but from the way he said it as if he truly believed it. As if he was convinced she would eventually surrender to him.

"I wouldn't bet on it," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. Adrian reached out, tracing a single finger along the curve of her jaw. The touch was light, almost thoughtful, but it sent a shiver down her spine. "I like a challenge," he murmured. The tension between them was suffocating, electric.

The air grew heavy, charged with something dangerous and unspoken. Isla could feel it creeping into her bones, threatening to unravel something deep inside her.

But she wouldn't let it. She stepped back, breaking the contact. "Then you'll be disappointed." His smirk widened just slightly, but there was something darker in his gaze now. Something unreadable. "We'll see."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there with her heart pounding and her resolve burning stronger than ever. She wasn't his to claim. And she would find a way to prove it.