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I T HAD BEEN THREE DAYS since Arabella had received the letter, two days since she had returned to the House of Sauvage, and one day since she had signed the contract they offered her.

And now she was here , Arabella thought numbly, her life forever changed . She glanced at her watch as the helicopter hovered over an island with rugged cliffs and woods that seemed to go on forever.

She mentally calculated the time it took to reach her destination as the helicopter started to descend. Thirty minutes, she thought. She was still in Europe then – maybe still in France even – but as for her exact location?

Pushing the mouthpiece down into position to make sure she was heard over the helicopter’s noise, Arabella asked, “What is the island called?”

The two pilots only answered her with polite smiles. Either they didn’t speak English, or they had been instructed to pretend otherwise.

A tall, bespectacled gentleman with silver hair and a benign-looking smile was waiting for them by the clearing, dressed in what could only be called...a suit. As the second pilot helped her out of the chopper, Arabella couldn’t help taking a closer look at their surroundings. There was nothing but woods around them. The wild and tangled type, the kind someone like the Blair Witch would absolutely adore .

And the old man trekked through it in a coat and tie?

It was all too strange, but the deafening sound coming from the chopper interrupted her thoughts. She whirled around and bit back a gasp. The pilots were already back in their seats, readying for takeoff.

No! Please! Don’t leave me! She wanted to cry the words out, wanted to run and beg the men to take her with them. But she could not.

In a few moments, the chopper was back in the air, its large, formidable-looking blades whipping in circles.

And now there was no going back , Arabella thought. From here on, a man named Aurélien Sauvage owned her, for the rest of her life.

****

M R. TEMPS WATCHED IN silence as the young woman silently but visibly struggled to accept her fate. His sympathy was with her, but his loyalty was with his master, and the latter’s orders to the household were quite clear.

Do not speak of the past. Do not interfere. And above all costs, do not let her leave.

None of it explained why Arabella Blume had come to join them on the island, but all of them had known better than to ask. Some things were better left unsaid. It was easier to pretend blindness that way.

After a sufficient time had passed, Mr. Temps stepped forward and said quietly, “May I help you with your belongings, mademoiselle ?”

The young woman turned around with a shake of her head. “I only have this.”

“It is my honor to be of service, Ms. Blume.”

That he knew her name clearly astonished her, and Mr. Temps took advantage of her surprise by successfully prying the leather valise out of her hands. What an interesting piece of luggage , Mr. Temps thought. It was decidedly vintage, but not at all priceless. And it was very, very small. How could all of her belongings fit in it?

“You know my name,” Arabella said suspiciously. “Are you—-” She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Are you Aurélien Sauvage?”

“No, mademoiselle. Please call me Mr. Temps. I have been serving the Sauvage family as their butler for almost three decades, as did my father in his lifetime and his father before him.”

“I suppose that’s nice,” Arabella allowed politely, “but it doesn’t really make me feel any safer.”

The butler acknowledged her words with a regal nod. “Understandable, mademoiselle. All the same, let me assure you that the staff has taken great care to make you feel most welcome.” Mr. Temps waved towards the direction of the woods. “If I may lead the way?”

No, you may not. That was what Arabella wanted to answer, but she was nothing if not practical and even if the old man was to let her stay, that would only lead to her death by starvation or God knew what.

Following Mr. Temps into the woods, she mentally prepared herself for a challenging outdoor battle, but it took only a few steps for her to realize that the woods were nothing but a smokescreen.

So that’s why the butler could walk around in a suit , Arabella thought with an inner grimace.

Hiding underneath the woods’ canopy of autumn leaves and meandering branches was a beautiful cobblestoned pathway that snaked down a sloping garden landscaped to perfection. There were flowers of every season and shade, bushes sculpted in the shape of unicorns and fairies, and here and there were stone benches resting under ivory-covered trellises. If her heart weren’t filled with so much pain and fear, she would have thought she had stumbled into Eden.

“It’s impressive, is it not?”

“Mm.”

Mr. Temps hid a smile. Did the young woman not realize how her eyes were practically shining as she took in their surroundings?

After telling herself to get over how beautiful the place was, Arabella worked hard to memorize everything she saw, hoping but failing to find some kind of escape route.

At the far end of the pathway, an impressive outline started to rise, and her eyes widened. She had braced herself for chains and dungeons, but what she was seeing right now—-

Her head snapped in Mr. Temps’s direction. “Is that where we’re going?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”

Her confusion deepened, but she reminded herself to stay on guard even as the sprawling stone mansion ahead of them seemingly beckoned for her to come closer so it could welcome Arabella to its splendor.

“I hope you don’t mind we are entering through the back, mademoiselle. It is closer this way.”

Aurélien Sauvage’s butler was just so polite she couldn’t help but shake her head, saying, “You seem like a nice man, sir. Surely you must know I’m being held against my will.”

“I beg your pardon, mademoiselle ?”

“I’m being held against my will.”

“My humble apologies. I didn’t quite catch that.”

Arabella said loudly and clearly, “I’m being held against my will.”

Mr. Temps shook his head sadly. “I still didn’t quite catch that, I’m afraid.”

Riiiiight. Arabella released a sigh, knowing when she was being stonewalled. If she wanted answers, asking questions obviously wasn’t going to be enough.

Upon reaching the twenty-foot tall back doors of the mansion, Arabella saw Mr. Temps pull out an iron key ring from his pocket. It contained a set of rusty skeleton keys, all of them about the same length as her index fingers. But most striking about them were their bows, shaped exactly like the rose found in the seal of the letter MDS sent.

A cold shiver skittered down her spine, and she instinctively hugged herself. Crazy or not, that rose was like an omen and a warning, a reminder that in this island, Aurélien Sauvage would be everywhere.

And there was no escaping him.

The heavy creaking sounds coming from the back doors being opened drew her out of her thoughts. When Mr. Temps apologized for the sound as they entered, she could only nod, entirely occupied with taking in the details of her gilded cage.

The back doors opened directly to what she imagined was the mansion’s main hallway, with its high ceilings and formidable length. Although most of the hallway was coated in darkness, light coming from the rows of Edwardian wall sconces on each side revealed a home of breathtaking beauty. The murals above her depicting whimsical imagery were reminiscent of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. They were unquestionably lovely, but when combined with the bush sculptures of mythical figures, it did make one wonder. Could Aurélien Sauvage be so lost in his flights of fantasies that he no longer knew what was real or the difference between right and wrong?

Noted then , Arabella thought. She was up against a mysteriously reclusive French billionaire who might be a madman as well.

Arabella continued her perusal as Mr. Temps pulled the doors closed behind them. Every inch of the place was rich in history, and every piece of furniture seemed to be an invaluable piece of art. The intricately woven tapestries and rugs, mirrors framed in gold, paintings by the most famous maestros – all these things deserved light, not shadows, and turning to Mr. Temps, she couldn’t help asking, “Is the rest of the house as dark?”

“I am afraid so, mademoiselle .”

“I see.” Arabella mentally nodded to herself. It was confirmed then. Only a madman would want to hide such beauty in darkness.

As they walked farther down the hallway, Arabella Blume kept a steady stream of conversation, all the while looking for more escape routes. Mr. Temps knew this, but pretended not to notice. Her tenacity and steadfastness were quite admirable, and so the old man let it be, not wanting to ruin her fun. Sooner or later, she would come to realize that this mansion was no Disney castle. Following the attack, the master had turned the mansion into a fortress, one that could keep people in or out of it, depending on his whim.

From the main hallway, they went into the Great Hall, and from here they ascended a sweeping staircase that made Arabella think of Regency balls and noblemen and noblewomen falling in love—-

No, don’t let its beauty distract you, Arabella quickly warned herself.

When they reached the mezzanine, she saw that the staircase diverged into two paths, and Mr. Temps murmured, “This way, mademoiselle .” The butler had chosen the stairs on the right, and Arabella filed this away in her mind, just to be sure. She would need to figure out why she was being directed here and what was on the other side of the mansion.

“We have prepared the tower room for you, mademoiselle ,” the butler told her as they reached the last flight of stairs. “I hope you will find your accommodations pleasing.”

Arabella didn’t answer right away. Or rather, she couldn’t. For all of the mansion’s extravagant features, it did not unfortunately come with its own elevator, and Mr. Temps had just subjected her to a four-story torture test.

The butler stayed behind as Arabella stepped inside the bedroom, and like the rest of the mansion, no expense had been spared with its décor. The four-poster bed was the first thing that caught her eye; it was a work of exquisite craftsmanship, with bedposts carved to resemble twisting branches covered in silver and gold thread, and a headboard on which a floral masterpiece was painted – a bed of pink, white, and red roses dotted with crystals.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing, couldn’t believe that this room was all for her, but when she turned towards Mr. Temps, she didn’t have to say a word.

“The master had our craftsmen working day and night to complete this in time of your arrival, mademoiselle .”

She shook her head incredulously. Why? Why go to so much effort for someone whose life he owned? She looked around her again, trying to take it all in, but it was impossible.

This room was –

This room was more than what she could even think of asking for.

Scrolled medallions decorated the room’s tall ceilings while a luxurious carpet the shade of lavender covered the entire floor. Across the bed was a velvet settee, set upon a magnificently woven rug and facing a grand fireplace with a marble mantel. Opposite the bedroom door was an entire row of bay windows, all of them furnished with padded seats and lace pillows.

Looking at Mr. Temps, Arabella said faintly, “I don’t understand. This room is fit for a princess. So why?”

Because it is what the young master intends you to be, Mr. Temps thought, and it is what we, too, hope you will be for him. But because the words were forbidden, the butler only smiled. “You are pleased then?”

She lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. “I am, but...” A cage was still a cage, no matter how lovely. She gnawed on her lip as Mr. Temps set her luggage down by the door. Was this it then? Was she really going to accept her fate just like that?

“Would you like a maid to assist you with unpacking?”

“Umm, no, I’m okay.”

“Then perhaps I could have a tray of refreshments sent up to your room in an hour?”

“No, really, I’m good.” But if Mr. Temps insisted on making it seem like she had merely booked a stay at some posh hotel, she might just go crazy.

“Then I shall take my leave, mademoiselle. Please do not hesitate to ring a bell if you require the staff’s service in any way.”

And that was it? As Mr. Temps reached for the door, she couldn’t help it, calling out, “Mr. Temps—-”

The butler turned to face her again. “ Oui, mademoiselle ?”

“About Aurélien Sauvage—-”

A polite mask fell over the butler’s face.

“Do you know—-” She swallowed hard. “Do you know what he intends to do with me?”

Mr. Temps slowly shook his head. “I am sorry, mademoiselle, but it is not my position to ask such things of the master.” He hesitated then said carefully, “What I can say, however, is that the master is a fair and just man—-”

A weak laugh escaped her. “Mr. Temps, how can you seriously say that, knowing what I am?”

“I cannot explain, mademoiselle, but I stand by my words. The master is not evil.”

Maybe , Arabella thought darkly. Or it could be that the great Aurélien Sauvage simply owned everyone on the island, just like he now owned her, and no one was allowed to say a word against him.

When Mr. Temps saw the young woman’s gaze turn calculating as she glanced towards the windows, he immediately knew what she had cooking in her mind and said with genuine alarm, “Please cast that thought out of your mind, mademoiselle .”

Even as she felt her cheeks flush, Arabella hastily schooled her face to look innocent as she stammered, “What are you talking about?”

The butler sent her a severe frown. “What you are thinking of is impossible.” He couldn’t help shaking his head. The girl had spunk to even consider jumping out of a four-story window. And principles, too , Mr. Temps thought, to not let the master’s obvious riches sway her.

When he noticed Arabella still giving the window calculating looks, Mr. Temps sighed. “I am not lying, mademoiselle. The height of this room is as such,” the butler explained gently, “so that any attempt to enter the room – or leave it – through the window can only lead to death.”

Darn it. Arabella’s gaze immediately flew to the ceilings as she considered her next move. Maybe a vent—-

But almost as if the old man could read her thoughts, the butler cleared his throat, saying, “I am sorry, mademoiselle . There is no vent in this mansion big enough to fit an adult.”

Even as she flushed anew at the butler’s patient tone, she insisted, “I truly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mr. Temps saw the young woman look at the marble fireplace, and he said gravely, “I’m afraid that’s not possible either.”

Darn it! It was just her luck to be imprisoned in the country’s second Alcatraz.

“Shreds of glass and blades have been fitted into the nooks and crevices of the walls, to prevent anyone from using it as a way in and out of the mansion.”

Arabella couldn’t help glowering this time. I’m not going to give up, Aurélien Sauvage. Her gaze turned towards the doors, her last resort.

Mr. Temps coughed.

Her teeth gnashed against each other at the sound. “Let me guess,” she couldn’t help muttering sarcastically. “The doors are locked from the outside?”

“Correct, mademoiselle .”

Just two words, and all her hopes for an immediate escape were dashed.

Mr. Temps watched in interest when a peaceful look settled over the young woman’s face as she closed her eyes. Perhaps she was meditating to control her fear? The butler nodded to himself. Yes, most likely.

He was wrong, though.

Arabella’s temper was her most shameful weakness, but poverty had forced her to learn the necessity of curbing her tongue. And so over the years, she had learned to satisfy herself by only letting her anger loose within the safe and private confines of her mind.

Like now.

FUCK YOU, AURéLIEN SAUVAGE! ASSHOLE! JERK! BASTARD!

Arabella exhaled. There. She felt so much better now. Opening her eyes, she even managed a smile for Mr. Temps. “I know it’s not your fault, sir.”

What a sweet young woman , the butler thought approvingly. She was exactly what Aurélien Sauvage needed, with her gentle demeanor sure to be the perfect foil for the master’s brooding ways.

“I thank you for your open-mindedness, mademoiselle. And truly, I do mean what I have said about the master. He is a good man, underneath—-”

The horns, the fangs, the claws?

Mr. Temps cleared his throat. “Deep inside he is a good man.”

Arabella hung on to her smile. “I suppose I’ll see that for myself in time.” Or not.

FUCK YOU, AURéLIEN SAUVAGE! YOU WILL NOT GET AWAY WITH THIS!