The door opens with a quiet sweep. Jaden's secretary enters carrying a silver tray polished bright enough to blind. The teapot gleams like something ceremonial. Porcelain cups sit beside a stack of biscuits and a bowl of sugared almonds. She sets everything down silently and leaves without lifting her eyes to mine.
Of course she doesn't. Nobody looks at prey in the spider's web.
The door clicks shut. The room stills.
Jaden stays leaned back in his chair, elbow on the armrest, fingers steepled lightly under his chin. Now that we're alone, his attention sharpens. It feels almost physical. A spotlight on my pulse.
"Drink," he says, voice low. "You need it."
I straighten my back and reach for the cup. My fingers betray me. They tremble. Barely, but enough. The porcelain warms my hands and
