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After I finish, I dress in the sweater and pants Caterina gave me last night—after our wedding ceremony.The thought lingers in my mind until I’m reminded that Archer doesn’t want a real marriage with me. I need to think of something to get me out of this ridiculous situation. Archer can’t keep me as his prisoner. He doesn’t even know me. And I don’t know him. For all intents and purposes, we’re complete strangers.

When I open the door, I find my duffle bag on the floor along with all the bouquets of roses I left in my dressing room. I grab the bag and a single red rose. Maybe Mary Jane can use the rest of the arrangements to brighten up the house.

I set the bag on the writing desk and open it, hoping to find my phone. Of course it’s gone. I’m sure Archer decided to keep it or maybe he simply left it behind for Dad to find. I rummage through the rest of the contents and find my dirty ballet clothes and the crystal swan. I close my hand around it and feel its weight. Was it only yesterday morning that I used it to pleasure myself, while thinking of him? In an instant, images of Archer watching me rub against the swan flood my mind.

“No.” I shake my head.

He’s made it very clear that he wants nothing to do with me. I have to accept that and not think of him anymore. I set the crystal down and head out to explore the house before Archer and his family wake up.

As soon as I leave the room, my stomach grumbles, and I realize I’m starving because I skipped two meals yesterday. Hopefully the kitchen is stocked, and I can make myself something to eat. Reaching the landing, I glance up to the second set of stairs that lead to the third floor. I go up a few steps but then think better of it.

“Archer sleeps up there. When he sleeps, that is.” She smirks.

“Oh?” I turn to find Gardenia in her sleep clothes, leaning on the doorframe of her room. I climb down. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll make sure and stay away from the third floor.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, sure that’ll get him to stop looking at you like you’re his last meal.”

“I’m sorry?” I step toward her.

Did Archer spend the night with her? Why else would she come out of her room to talk to me if not to remind me that Archer is already taken? Being Archer’s wife means nothing.

“Whatever.” She slams the door shut.

“Okay.” I furrow my brows at her door, then continue downs the stairs.

The main floor is bigger than my house. Everything feels new as if it’s been recently renovated. I glance to my left at the tarp covering the dilapidated grand staircase. Curiosity wins over. Before I know it, I’m on the second level staring down a scary corridor. There’s fire damage along the walls. One door at the end of the hallway appears in worse shape than the others. With my heart thudding in my throat, I make my way to it. What happened here?

“Get out.” Archer’s voice makes me spin around. “This part of the house is off-limits to you. Go.” He points toward the stairwell as his chest rises and falls.

My feet are glued to the worn carpet. I can’t move as I stare into Archer’s angry eyes.

“I said get out.” He raises his voice to a thunderous roar.

Somehow, I snap out of it, and finally find the will to run away from him. Tears spill down my cheeks as I race down the stairs, across the foyer, then up the stairs to the other wing. I don’t stop until I reach the safety of my room. I hate it here. I climb under the covers and make myself go back to sleep.

* * *

Days later,I sit up in my bed in the dark with my belly grumbling again. I can’t stay in my room forever. So I decide to head out and find the kitchen. If I hurry, I can prepare a sandwich and bring it back to my room without being seen. I dart down the stairs to the main floor. Once I find the dining room, I use the service door in the back to get to the kitchen, which like the rest of the house, is brand new with a double-sized island in the middle of the room, tall cupboards, and a massive stove. Everything is top of the line.

I amble to the refrigerator where I find already prepared sandwiches on a platter. Maybe this is what Mary Jane plans to serve for lunch. Lifting the plastic wrap on the corner, I snatch four triangles with ham and some kind of jam in the middle. Deciding against going back to my room to eat, I take a bite as I sit on one of the barstools.

“Hmm.” I close my eyes as the flavors melt in my mouth.

Once I finish, I grab a green apple from the fruit bowl sitting on the counter and bite into it. It’s sweet and so juicy I have to wipe my chin. I hop off the barstool and explore more of the kitchen. There’s a door that leads to the gardens that are currently covered in several inches of snow. I press my hand on the windowpane and peek outside. It’s so pretty out there, I make a mental note to go out once I find a coat I can wear.

“I hope you’re not thinking of leaving the house in those clothes?” Archer’s voice fills every nook and cranny in the kitchen. “You need a proper coat.”

“I wasn’t….” I turn to face him then freeze.

I’ve seen a lot of shirtless men during my career. When you’re a performer, modesty is the first thing that has to go. Most men prefer to practice in just their tights. But all those years didn’t prepare me for Archer’s impressive physique. Without a shirt, his muscled shoulders seem wider than I know them to be. Gray sweatpants hang low on his hips. He’s out of breath as if he just finished a run. With every inhale, beads of sweat drip down his defined abs and get lost in his waistband. I swallow at the sight of him.

“Your father refused to surrender your clothes to the person I sent two days ago. A shopper will stop by later today to get you anything you need. Winter clothes for example.” His eyes settle on my feet. “And shoes. You can’t go out there in bedroomslippers”

“I don’t want anything from you.” I finally recover from the shock of seeing his nude body.

I can’t help but wonder if he’s awake this early because he spent the night with Gardenia again. He stands there for several beats, and I swear the temperature in the room goes up at least ten degrees. He flexes his hand, and his entire chest bulges in response. God, the man is beautiful. Beautiful and unattainable. Meeting my gaze, he grabs the T-shirt tucked in the back of his waistband. Like a kid in a candy store, I stand there and ogle him as he pulls the T-shirt over his head and covers his entire torso.

“You will take the clothes. The last thing I want is for you to go out there looking like this.” He makes a show of looking me up and down. “You’ll freeze to death.”