Beauty and the Don

The Manor

— MARA

I woke to silk.

That was the first thing I registered. Not pain. Not fear. Silk against my skin.

I forced my eyes open. Blinked against the soft light.

Candles.

Dozens of them. Scattered around the room on surfaces I couldn't quite focus on. Their flames danced, casting shadows that moved like living things.

Where was I?

I tried to sit up. My head spun. Whatever they'd drugged me with was still in my system, making everything feel distant and unreal.

The room came into focus slowly.

Enormous. Decorated in dark wood and deep burgundy. A four-poster bed beneath me, canopy draped in heavy velvet. Windows tall enough to be doors, covered in curtains that looked like they cost more than my entire apartment.

This wasn't the safe house.

This was something else entirely.

Memory crashed back. The mansion. The iron gates crowned with wolves. The woman with ice-blue eyes.

"You're awake."

I jerked toward the voice.

A woman stood in the doorway. Old. Maybe seventy. She wore black from head to toe, her gray hair pulled into a severe bun. Her eyes were kind, but guarded.

"Who are you?" I managed to ask.

"Mrs. Kovac. The housekeeper." She moved into the room, carrying a tray. "I've brought you food. You've been asleep for nearly a day."

A day.

Oh God.

"Where am I?"

"Ashgrave Manor. The Rourke family estate."

Rourke. That name again.

"I need to leave," I said, throwing off the covers. "I need to—"

The room tilted. I grabbed the bedpost to steady myself.

Mrs. Kovac set down the tray and moved to help me. I jerked away from her touch.

"Don't," I said. "Don't touch me."

She raised her hands, backing off. "Easy, child. No one's going to hurt you."

"Right. Because k********g me and drugging me is totally harmless."

"I understand you're frightened—"

"You don't understand anything." I forced myself to stand. Legs shaking. Vision swimming. "Where are my clothes?"

"Being cleaned. You're welcome to wear—"

"I want my clothes. I want my phone. And I want to leave. Now."

Mrs. Kovac's expression went sad. "I'm afraid that's not possible."

"Why not?"

"Because Mrs. Rourke has ordered you confined to this wing."

"Mrs. Rourke doesn't own me."

"No. But she owns this house. And what she says goes."

I wanted to scream. To throw something. To demand answers that made sense.

Instead, I took a breath. Forced myself to think.

"The man," I said. "The one from the hospital. Where is he?"

"Mr. Cassian is recovering in the medical wing."

Mr. Cassian. So that was his name.

"Is he alive?"

"Yes."

"Can I see him?"

Mrs. Kovac hesitated. "I'm not sure that's wise."

"I don't care if it's wise. I need to talk to him."

"Why?"

"Because this is his fault. All of it. And he's going to get me out of here."

Mrs. Kovac's expression turned even sadder. "Child. I don't think you understand."

"Understand what?"

"Mr. Cassian isn't going to let you leave. He brought you here to protect you."

"Protect me? By locking me up?"

"By keeping you alive." She moved to the window, pulled back the curtain slightly. "Out there, you're a target. In here, you're safe."

"I don't want to be safe. I want to be free."

"Sometimes we don't get what we want. Sometimes we get what keeps us breathing."

The resignation in her voice made my stomach turn.

"How long have you worked here?" I asked.

"Twenty-three years."

"And you've just... accepted this? The violence? The control?"

Her jaw tightened. "I've survived this. There's a difference."

Before I could respond, footsteps echoed in the hallway outside.

Mrs. Kovac's posture changed. Went rigid. Fearful.

"I need to go," she said quickly. "Eat. Rest. And whatever you do, don't try to leave this room."

"Why not?"

"Because the guards have orders to stop you. By any means necessary."

She hurried out. The door closed behind her.

Locked.

The click echoed in the silence.

I stood there, alone in a room that was beautiful and terrible in equal measure.

A prison made of silk and candlelight.

I moved to the window. Pulled back the curtains fully.

The view stole my breath.

Gardens stretched out below, covered in snow. Beyond them, a forest. Dark. Deep. And in the distance, the city. Small and glittering and impossibly far away.

How had I gotten here?

Twenty-four hours ago, I was a nurse. Broke but free. Now I was...what? A prisoner? A pawn in some game I didn't understand?

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass.

"Think, Mara," I whispered to myself. "There has to be a way out."

But what?

The door was locked. The windows didn't open. And even if I could escape the room, where would I go? I didn't know the layout of this place. Didn't know who I could trust.

Didn't know if anyone here was even human anymore.

I turned back to the room. Studied it with fresh eyes.

The candles. Dozens of them. Why?

The furniture. All antique. Expensive. But there, in the corner—

A medical bag.

Leather. Old. But the contents looked new.

I moved to it. Opened it.

Supplies. Bandages. Antiseptic. Painkillers. Surgical tools.

They expected me to treat someone.

Him.

Cassian.

The man I'd saved. The man who'd ruined my life.

Anger flared hot and bright.

He wanted me to save him again? After everything he'd done?

I should refuse. Should let him bleed out. Serve him right for dragging me into this nightmare.

But I couldn't.

I was a nurse. Saving people was wired into my DNA, even when they didn't deserve it.

Especially when they didn't deserve it.

I sank onto the edge of the bed. Exhaustion crashed over me.

How long could I survive here? In this beautiful prison with its silk sheets and terrible secrets?

How long before I became like Mrs. Kovac—resigned to survival instead of fighting for freedom?

The thought terrified me more than anything else.

I lay back. Stared at the canopy above me.

And tried not to think about ice-blue eyes and the word mine whispered like a vow.

* * *

I must have dozed off.

Because I woke to the sound of the door opening.

I sat up fast. Heart racing.

Mrs. Kovac entered, carrying fresh clothes.

"You need to dress," she said. "Mrs. Rourke wants to see you."

"I don't care what she wants."

"Please. Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

The plea in her voice made me pause.

"What happens if I refuse?" I asked.

"Then the guards will dress you themselves."

Right. Of course.

I took the clothes. Black pants. A simple white shirt. Both fit perfectly.

How did they know my size?

How long had they been watching me?

I dressed quickly. Mrs. Kovac waited by the door, not meeting my eyes.

"Come," she said when I finished.

I followed her into the hallway.

And stopped.

Because Ashgrave Manor wasn't just a mansion.

It was a fortress.

Stone walls. High ceilings. Chandeliers that dripped crystal and shadow. Portraits lining the walls—men and women with sharp eyes and sharper smiles.

The Rourke family, I assumed.

Generations of monsters.

Mrs. Kovac led me through corridors that twisted and turned. I tried to memorize the route. Tried to find exits.

There were none.

Every window was barred. Every door was locked. And everywhere, guards stood watch. Silent. Armed. Eyes tracking my every move.

We descended a staircase. Entered a wing that felt different from the rest.

Colder.

Darker.

More dangerous.

Mrs. Kovac stopped outside a heavy wooden door.

"She's inside," she said. "Be respectful. And whatever you do, don't lie to her. She always knows."

Then she left.

I stood there alone.

Took a breath.

Pushed the door open.

The room beyond was an office. All dark wood and leather. A massive desk dominated the space, and behind it—

The woman from before.

Ice-blue eyes. Severe beauty. Power radiating from her like heat.

"Mara Lin," she said. Not a question. A statement. "Sit."

I didn't move.

"I said sit."

"And I heard you. I'm choosing to stand."

Her lips curved. Almost a smile. "Brave. Or stupid. I haven't decided which yet."

"What do you want?"

"To understand what my son sees in you."

Son.

Cassian was her son.

Of course he was.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.

"Don't play coy. Cassian nearly died protecting you. That's not like him. He doesn't protect. He destroys." She leaned back in her chair. "So tell me. What makes you special?"

"Nothing. I'm nobody."

"Nobody is just nobody. Everyone has value. Even if it's only as a tool."

The casual cruelty in her voice made my skin crawl.

"I want to leave," I said.

"No."

"You can't keep me here."

"I can. And I will. Until I decide what to do with you."

"I'm not a thing to be used."

"Aren't you? You're a witness to a crime. A liability. The smart thing would be to eliminate you." Her eyes glittered. "But Cassian has claimed you. Which means you're worth more alive."

"Claimed me?"

"Oh yes. Didn't you know? You're his now. His property. His... obsession." She said the word like it tasted foul. "And that makes you valuable. But also dangerous."

I couldn't breathe.

"I'm not staying here," I said.

"You are. Until I say otherwise."

"Then I'll escape."

"You'll try. And you'll fail. This house has held far more dangerous people than you." She stood. Moved around the desk. "But I admire your spirit. So I'll make you a deal."

"I don't want a deal."

"You'll want this one. Behave. Do what you're told. And I'll let you see Cassian."

My heart stuttered. "Why would I want to see him?"

"Because he's the only one in this house who cares if you live or die. And you're going to need that."

"Need it for what?"

She smiled. It was a terrible thing.

"To survive me."

She moved past me. Stopped at the door.

"Mrs. Kovac will show you back to your room. Rest. Eat. Tomorrow, you'll begin earning your keep."

"Doing what?"

"Healing my son. After all, that's what you're good at, isn't it? Saving monsters who should stay dead."

Then she was gone.

I stood there, trembling with rage and fear in equal measure.

This was my life now.

Trapped in a fortress with a family of killers.

And the worst part?

I couldn't stop thinking about him.

Cassian.

The man who'd started this nightmare.

The man I'd saved.

The man who apparently thought he owned me now.

I wanted to hate him.

But part of me—a small, traitorous part—wanted to see him again.

Just to prove I wasn't afraid.

Just to show him he didn't control me.

Just to—

A voice spoke behind me.

Deep. Rough. Familiar.

"You should've let me die."

I spun around.

And there he was.

Cassian Rourke.

Alive. Standing. Those ice-blue eyes boring into mine with an intensity that stopped my breath.

He looked different than I remembered. Taller. Stronger. More dangerous.

But also more human.

He leaned heavily against the doorframe, like standing was costing him everything.

"You," I whispered.

"Me."