Chapter3
1047 Words
Liora
The message sat on my screen like a slap.
*Tomorrow, 8 pm. Wear something that doesn’t look like you borrowed it from a charity shop. – C.V.*
I read it four times. Each time the words scraped a little deeper. Cassian Voss had not asked my name. He had not offered a greeting. He had simply issued an order about my clothes.
I spent the next morning in the only thrift store within walking distance. The navy dress from yesterday was too formal and still carried the smell of the Voss study. I found a simple black midi dress with clean lines and a high neck. It cost more than I wanted to spend, but it did not look like charity. Mum insisted on ironing it twice. Dad polished my only pair of decent shoes until the leather shone.
At seven-forty, a different black car arrived. No bulky man this time. The driver opened the door without speaking. We drove into the heart of the city and stopped in front of a restaurant whose name I had only seen in magazines. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Soft gold light. A doorman who did not smile.
Inside, the hostess led me to a private table on the mezzanine. Cassian Voss was already seated.
I had seen photographs. They had not prepared me.
He was taller than the pictures suggested. Broad shoulders under a charcoal suit that looked like poured onto him. Dark hair cut close enough to show the sharp line of his jaw. Eyes the color of wet slate. He did not stand when I approached. He simply looked at me the way a man might look at a contract he had already decided to sign.
“Sit.”
I sat.
A waiter appeared, poured water, and vanished. Cassian’s gaze traveled over the dress, the shoes, and the way I held my shoulders. Whatever he saw did not soften his expression.
“My father chose well,” he said. Voice low and even. “You look exactly like the kind of girl who would say yes to this arrangement.”
Heat climbed my neck. “I said yes because your father threatened my parents.”
“I know,” He lifted his glass. “Marcus is efficient when he wants something. The question is whether you will be equally efficient as my wife.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you will attend the events I require. You will smile when cameras appear. You will not speak to the press without clearance. You will not embarrass the Voss name. In private, you may do as you please, provided it stays private.” He set the glass down. “Separate floors of the penthouse if you prefer. I have no interest in playing house.”
The words landed clean and cold. I had expected distance. I had not expected it to be delivered like a business memo.
“And if I want to leave after five years?”
“Then we divorce cleanly. You keep the money already paid to your family. I keep my reputation intact. Everyone walks away.”
A plate of food I had not ordered arrived. I did not touch it. Cassian ate with precise movements as if the meal were another task to complete.
“Why me?” I asked finally. “You could have married anyone.”
He looked up. For the first time, something flickered behind the slate eyes. Not warmth. Calculation.
“Because you have nothing to gain by destroying me and everything to lose if you try. That makes you useful.”
Useful.
I swallowed the reply that wanted to rise and forced my voice steady. “I will keep my side of the contract. I expect you to keep yours. No more men in black. No more letters under the door.”
“Already handled.” He checked his watch. “Dinner is over. The car will take you home. We meet again at the courthouse in nineteen days. Do not be late.”
He stood. I stood. We faced each other across the small table. Up close, he smelled of clean soap and something colder like winter air. He did not offer his hand. He simply turned and walked away, leaving me alone with the untouched plate and the weight of the next nineteen days.
The same driver returned me to the bakery. The lights were still on. Mum and Dad sat at the small table, pretending they had not been waiting. I told them the dinner had been fine. I did not tell them Cassian had called me useful. I did not tell them he had looked at me as if I were already filed and forgotten.
Later in my room, I took off the black dress and hung it carefully. My phone buzzed once.
New message. Same unknown number.
*You held your spine straight. That is the only reason I stayed for the full hour. Do not mistake it for kindness. – C.V.*
I stared at the screen until the letters burned.
Then a second message arrived before I could reply.
*Someone tried to enter your parents’ bakery through the rear window twenty minutes ago. They failed. Next time they may not. Lock your doors, Liora. The contract protects you only while you remain valuable. *
My blood went cold.
I crossed to the window and looked down at the dark alley behind the shop. Empty. Quiet. But the sense of eyes remained.
I locked every window. I dragged the chair under my bedroom door. Then I sat on the edge of the bed with the phone in my hand and the second message still glowing.
Cassian Voss had just told me the threats were not over.
And he knew about the attempt before I did.
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