Despite how pissed his assessment of Anya made me, his words had a confusing mix of emotions bubbling up inside. His admiration made me feel both significant and incredibly exposed. I wasn't accustomed to such intense adoration and wasn’t expecting it under these circumstances.

  My heart raced, and I couldn’t decipher if it was fear, surprise, or something else entirely. A tiny part of me wanted to bask in his praise and the feeling of being seen. The louder, more dominant voice in my head warned me against the pull of his words. Attempting to mask my unease, I held his gaze.

  “Flattery will get you nowhere with me.”

  The glint in his amber eyes was unwavering. “It's not flattery, Lolita. It's the undeniable truth.”

  Unsure how to respond, I steered the conversation back to the prior point of discussion. I was angrier at the fact that I couldn’t deny Anya had done any of the things he mentioned than I was at his bluntness. “So, you’ve gathered easily obtained information about Anya and me. That’s somehow made you an expert on my life and relationships?”

  "The most impressive thing about your life is that you belong to me.”

  “I do not—”

  “Living in that shitty apartment with the retired meth-head next door wasn’t impressive. It was depressing. Working as a maid at a lower level than what our servitors endure was unacceptable. And let's not forget your other pitiful attempts at a career. The chip factory. The discount shoe store.”

  His words unraveled fragments of my past, and, as of a few days ago, my present. He spoke with an anger that was palpable, yet it wasn't directed at me. It was as if he resented the hurdles I had faced.

  We were clearly polar opposites on this subject. His view of my life needled at my skin. He lived in the lap of luxury and had literal servants. There were times that I worked myself to the bone to make sure I had food in my stomach and some sort of a roof above my head, even if it was just my car. I wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed to have done so.

  “You know what, I like my shitty apartment and my neighbor. Knyra worked hard to turn her life around. Not everyone has the privilege of being born with a silver spoon shoved up their ass. The irony of you talking down to me, or anyone for that matter, as your sister works for you as a…what’s that term? Servitor.”

  The words slipped from my lips like a challenge, a daring jab at the facade of his perfect world. His brows rose, a pregnant pause filling the space between us. I was taken aback when a genuine laugh fell from his mouth. It wasn’t the response I was expecting.

  “You’re stunning when passionate about something.”

  “Don’t deflect. We just discussed how that isn’t going to work on me.”

  “That was a one-sided discussion you had with yourself.” He laughed again when my glare hardened, amplifying my anger.

  “If telling you how gorgeous you are angers you this much, I’ll make sure to do so repeatedly the next time we fuck.”

  I vehemently shook my head, flustered and infuriated by his vulgarity. “That isn’t what we do! That’s what you do to me even as I tell you to stop.”

  “Stop and don’t stop are synonymous when we’re fucking.” He leaned back and reached for his mug. “I’m curious. Imagine I slide inside you, making sure you feel every inch of me as I run my hands over your delectable body while acknowledging how well you take my cock. How beautiful you are. Would you fight harder, deliciae?”

  I stared at him, my chest rising and falling as I fought to hold back tears. “What is wrong with you?”

  “I told you, I’m curious. You don’t have to tell me. We can find out together.” He took another drink from his mug and then sat it down. “Now, I hate to change the subject, but there’s something I need to clarify. I thought seeing Esther and Nicolette in evening gowns for your Rite would’ve been clue enough that they aren’t servitors.”

  “Servants,” I snapped.

  He grinned. “It’s coined eruditio, a process in place to refine their skills.”

  “What kind of skills? And why?” I dared to ask.

  “There’s no limit on knowledge to better serve their masters.”

  What the fuck?

  “Masters?” I practically spat the word at him. “Doesn’t that mean they’re more like slaves?”

  "My sister could and would never be a slave.” His tone was firm but tinged with a note of offense. “She’s doing this willingly. They both are. Nicolette is betrothed to a man who fully comprehends her value, and Esther is so beloved that no man has been deemed worthy of claiming her.”

  I was torn between frustration, anger, and confusion, unable to reconcile the contradiction in his views. His world was so far removed from mine. “Will I go through this as well? The…?”

  “Eruditio,” he restated. “You will never be subjected to such labors. You’ve done more than enough in your time away from home. And just to be clear, I wasn't being condescending. When I say you're perfection, I mean it. I have no doubt you'll surpass all my expectations."

  His words hung in the air as I processed them, a cauldron of resentment bubbling within me. "And how could you be so sure of that?"

  “You have proven to be beyond skilled in everything you do, even as an amateur.”

  His response was flippant. There was an unmistakable innuendo in his words, and a blatant hint of what happened between us in the bathtub that I tried to ignore.

  I pushed my plate aside and met Alexander's gaze head on. "What exactly is my role here? Why did you take me?”

  With a slow exhale, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “Lolita, you're my Electi. That is the most important concept for you to grasp. Once you understand that, everything else will come naturally and easily to you.”

  I held back a sigh of my own and looked down at the table. I felt like we were going in circles, and I was getting nowhere. With each step forward, I found myself even more turned around. His hand suddenly covered mine, drawing my attention back to him.

  "Be patient. You can't expect to understand the entirety of our way of life and have all of your concerns addressed and resolved with one conversation. With time, you will learn—starting today, in fact. After a tour of our home."

  Our home. I bit my lip and glanced away, torn between the urge to demand he tell me every hidden truth and his infuriatingly logical advice to slow down. Studying where our hands met, I noticed the breakfast knife on the tabletop beside them.

  Its blade was little sharper than one used to cut butter, but it would still hurt and had the potential to draw blood. Alexander's gaze followed mine. He inclined his head toward the knife. “Go on,” he taunted, his tone daring and deceptively soft. “Try me.”

  His fingers tightened slightly around mine, the touch confining. The combination of his proximity and the presence of the knife created a tension that hummed between us. Part of me wanted to take him up on the challenge, prove that I wasn't completely at his mercy. The rational side of me knew how futile that would be.

  Stab him and then what? Run through the house again, unable to find a way out? Even if did manage to make it outside, I was miles away from civilization. With a huff, I withdrew my hand from beneath his. “I'm not stupid enough to do that, but it is tempting.”

  “Your honesty is, as always, endearing.” He chuckled, the sound low and deep. "Wise choice, though I am disappointed I won’t get to discipline you.”

  “Discipline me? I’m not a child!”

  “Oh, I know. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to bend you over this table and fuck you bloody with that knife before fucking you with my tongue and cock.” His eyes roamed over my face, “If you’re curious to find out how it feels…”

  I realized he was waiting for an actual response. “No! No. I don’t want that.”

  “I won’t force you. It’s important to have boundaries.”

  He wanted to speak of boundaries? Was he being serious?

  “On to more important matters,” he continued, and as if she was summoned by his words, Esther came sweeping into the room carrying a tall glass filled with a vibrant, greenish concoction. My gaze shifted from her to Alexander.

  "Good morning." She greeted me directly this time, flashing a warm smile.

  "Good morning…” I replied slowly, trying to keep up with what was happening.

  She placed the glass in front of me. “This is a special elixir, forged from ingredients grown and harvested right here on the Isle. It's designed to revitalize your energy and promote fertility.”

  Fertility?

  The word was like a guillotine over my head. I exchanged a quick glance with Alexander, but he remained composed and unperturbed by the topic of conversation.

  My heart raced as I considered the implications of what she was saying. The food I’d just consumed rapidly soured, and a feeling of nausea twisted my gut. Esther's explanation continued as if she was oblivious to my rising panic.

  “These will help as well.” She flattened her palm and extended her hand towards me so that I could get a better look at the pills she was holding. “They are a part of our care routine for the Electi.”

  I looked down, unsure of how to react, a cold knot of dread forming in my stomach. The very idea was staggering, beyond anything I'd anticipated. He wanted a child. From me. Every fiber of my being recoiled at the thought.

  “Give us a moment.”

  I barely registered Esther's departure or her placing the pills in my hand and gently curling my fingers around them until Alexander's voice cut through the haze of my concertation.

  “Lolita.”

  Startled, I looked up to meet his penetrating stare, and it was as if he could sense the inner turmoil that was threatening to consume me.

  “I can see that this troubles you.”

  “You—you want me to get pregnant?”

  “Well, naturally. I’m not getting any younger. I know it won’t happen overnight and that’s fine. I’d like to have you all to myself for a while, and there’s also the matter of you settling in.”

  I took a deep breath, fighting to remain composed and not fall apart in front of him or run screaming from the room. “You can't just decide this for me. You have no right.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  He leaned in closer, the warmth of his breath brushing my face, along with a hint of liquor. “I can do whatever I want to you. You’re mine. Every part of you belongs to me. Every thought, every emotion and, every beat of your heart.”

  His words were delivered with such raw conviction that something in my chest spasmed. I attempted to turn away. His hand, large and warm yet unyielding, cupped my face.

  His fingers held my chin, forcing me to keep my full attention on him. The slight sting of his grip was nothing compared to the intensity of his eyes. My pulse thrummed loudly in my ears, drowning out every other sound. Our close proximity only heightened my anxiety. Every nerve in my body jolted to life in a sharp, piercing awareness.

  “If my words aren’t coming across clear enough, there are plenty of other ways for me to make you understand.”

  There was an unmistakable edge within his tone despite the gentle way he spoke.

  "You're mine," he murmured. "You belong to me now and forever. That means I'll look after you, always. Whatever you wish for, I'll provide. I can give you more than you've ever imagined. All I ask is that you devote yourself to me as a man."

  His ability to go from tender and caring to twisted and domineering within seconds was beginning to give me whiplash.

  He laid bare his expectations, his vision for us, with a casual frankness that left me reeling, struggling to keep up with the tide of his revelations. I was silent, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts that I could barely piece together, let alone respond to.

  Sensing my hesitation, he applied a subtle, firm pressure, a silent insistence for recognition. "Do you understand?" he pressed, his voice a dark melody that commanded attention.

  "Yes," I whispered back, the word slipping out in a hesitant breath. I didn't grasp the depths of his words, not truly, but a part of me acknowledged the inescapable truth of my situation.

  I was unequivocally his.

  For now.

  I wanted to push him away, to run as far away from this place as possible. But I was trapped. I had no way of escaping him and we both knew it.

  His possessive hold gradually relaxed and he pulled his hand away, giving me a moment of reprieve. I looked at the glass Esther had brought me and watched a bead of condensation slide down the side of it.

  “Have a taste,” he encouraged.

  Knowing I truly had no choice, I took a deep breath and picked up the glass, my fingers wrapping around its chilled surface. I brought it to my lips and took a cautious sip.

  Tropical fruits wrapped around my taste buds, followed by a subtle hint of sweetness. The texture was smooth with a creamy undertone. It wasn't unpleasant, but having the knowledge of its purpose made me want to launch the damned thing at a nearby wall.

  “Once you're finished,” he began, his tone shifting from casual back to business like, “Nicolette and Esther will give you a tour of the estate. After that, they will introduce you to our codex.”

  The mention of a doctrine gave me pause, another reminder that my introduction to this world was far from over. There were still layers of knowledge I had yet to uncover.

  I picked up the pills, considering the consequences if I only pretended to swallow them. Whatever they may be, it wasn’t worth it. I tossed them back and took another sip of the smoothie. They had a slight aftertaste, a hint of something herbal, but it was quickly overridden.

  “You know, if you behave, I might consider allowing Anya some freedom from her enclosure.”

  The first time he mentioned Anya had already thrown me off balance, but this new piece of information had my breath catching in my throat. I could feel the shock spreading across my face.

  She was here?

  I was unable to comprehend how that would be possible. How did we both vanish from a room crowded with people?

  It dawned on me—such things didn’t just happen. Not unless those present turned a blind eye, or we were so insignificant in their world that our absence left no ripple. It was a bitter reflection of our lives to date—always present, yet perpetually overlooked. And now, alarmingly forgotten.

  Getting hired at Millennium didn’t suddenly change that.

  Anya and I were nothing but small specks of dust when compared to the people we worked for, and even less to those we cleaned up after.

  My voice trembled when I finally managed to speak.

  “Anya... she's…why is she here?” The words felt heavy on my tongue, the far-reaching reality of this situation suddenly much starker.

  Alexander's lips curved into a faint smile, a twisted glint in his eyes.

  “She’s your family, isn’t she?” he replied, his tone chiding. “What kind of partner would I be if I were to disregard those closest to you?”

  “Did you plan on taking both of us from the beginning?”

  He sighed heavily, his gaze cold and unyielding. “It wasn’t my initial intention to involve Anya, but she left me with little choice.”

  “Because she saw your face.”

  “No,” he replied briskly, punctuating it with a light laugh. “That wouldn’t have mattered. She’s here due to a separate issue.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He glanced at his watch and clicked his teeth twice. “As much as I’d love to stay with you all morning, I have a few matters to attend to.”

  “Wait!” I pleaded, grabbing hold of his wrist. “Is she safe?”

  “She’s perfectly fine. For the time being, anyway.” He gently shook off my hold, his chair scraping softly against the floor as he pushed it back. He stood and lowered his face to mine, lips brushing against my cheek in a fleeting gesture. “I’m leaving you in the capable hands of my sister and Nicolette, but if you need anything at all, they’ll show you where to find me.”

  With one final feather-light brush over the top of my head with his hand, he fished a cellphone from his pocket and walked towards one of the arched doorways. As his all-consuming presence receded, a heavy silence settled around me.

  I struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. The rush of emotions from the night before that I’d been holding at bay until now.

  The intensity of our conversation and the weight of these revelations hit me all at once. Each breath I took felt labored, as if the walls of the opulent room were closing in. I hadn't realized how much my body had been running on pure adrenaline until his departure. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me—to us.

  Fingers clenched, I willed myself to regain control, to stop fucking shaking. I couldn't afford to break, not now. Not when the stakes were so much higher than I imagined. Not when it wasn’t only me I had to worry about.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It was my fault.

  Anya had to have been taken because of me. I retraced my every step the night of the trade show, trying to find the common denominator, and realized it was the wine. I’d handed her that glass without a second thought. I’d never once stopped to consider it may have been laced with something.

  Shana knew what would happen, though. She had known Alexander was dangerous when she brought me to drink his poison of choice, going so far as encouraging me when I said no. She chose to practically hand me over, and I could only begin to imagine why.

  It was for that reason I couldn’t hold a grudge against her. If our positions were reversed, I would’ve done the same to her. I wasn’t selfless enough to sacrifice myself for someone I didn’t care deeply about. The people on that list were almost non-existent. But thinking of that and all the way things could’ve been different wouldn’t help me now. I wasn’t sure what could.

  I had clung to the hope that Anya would move heaven and hell to find me. Now knowing she couldn’t, that she was somewhere in this place, vulnerable and alone, felt like a cruel joke. It was very clear that Alexander was not a fan of hers. If the other men had the same views as him, then they wouldn’t be either.