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The words are quiet, but they hit like a knife between the ribs.
I go still.
Torres isn’t a man who speaks without thinking. He’s been with me long enough to understand how I operate, when to push, when to back off. But this? This is a line he’s just barely willing to cross.
My eyes snap up, locking onto his. Torres doesn’t flinch, but I see the flicker of regret in his gaze.
“You think she’s using me?”
He exhales, running a hand over his face. “I don’t know. But you have to consider it.”
I lean back against the desk, fingers brushing over the emerald silk.
The truth is, Ihaveconsidered it.
Lila isn’t like the women I’m used to. She’s not trained in deception, not raised in this world of power plays and silent wars. But she’s smart. And she’s desperate.
Desperate people do reckless things.
Still…
I think about the way she looked at me in the garden. The hesitation before she took the flower. The flicker of somethingrealin her eyes when she told me she felt like a caged bird.
If she’s lying, she’s damn good at it.
“This marriage is for life,” I say finally, my voice quieter now. “If she’s going to be my wife, things can’t stay like this.”
Torres doesn’t argue. He knows I’ve made up my mind.
I wait outside her door,the dress draped over my arm. The fabric is soft beneath my fingers, the emerald silk catching the dim light of the hallway.
For a second, I hesitate.
This is ridiculous. I don’tdothis. I don’t wait outside a woman’s bedroom like some lovestruck fool with a gift in my hands. I don’task—I take. I don’tcourt—I own.
And yet, here I am.
I exhale sharply and knock.
A few seconds pass before the door opens.
Lila stands there, her hair loose over her shoulders, her soft lips parted slightly in surprise. She blinks up at me, eyes wary but undeniably curious.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
I hold out the dress. “We’re going out.”
She doesn’t move to take it right away. Instead, she looks at it, then at me, suspicion creeping into her gaze. “Excuse me?”
I push the fabric toward her again. “You wanted to get out of the house. Here’s your chance.”
She stares at me for a long moment, then slowly reaches out. Our fingers brush as she takes the dress, and just like in the garden, a spark ignites where our skin meets.
She pulls back quickly, clearing her throat. “What’s the catch?”
I tilt my head. “No catch. You wanted a change of scenery. You’re getting one.”
Her fingers tighten around the fabric. “And you just…decided to grant my wish? Just like that?”