Chapter 3

"Give me the pen."

Elowen did not wait for Caius to answer. She reached across the dark mahogany desk, grabbed the heavy gold instrument, and dragged the contract closer to the edge.

"No hesitation?" Caius asked, raising a dark brow. "A minute ago you looked ready to burn this building to the ground."

"I have two suitcases sitting in an alley and zero dollars in my pocket," Elowen said, scribbling her legal signature across the bottom of every designated page. Her hand shook slightly, but she forced the ink firm against the paper. "You win, Mr. Ashbourne. Wreck my pride if you want, but I am getting my bakery back."

"I have no interest in your pride, Elowen. Just your compliance."

Caius picked up the signed document, tapped the edges neatly against the desk, and slid it back into the folder. He pressed a button on the intercom near his keyboard.

"Marcus. Bring the car around to the private garage."

"Right away, sir," a crisp voice replied through the speaker.

Ten minutes later, Elowen sat in the back of a black Maybach with tinted glass. Two battered cardboard boxes and an old duffel bag sat in the luxury trunk behind them. The contrast was humiliating, but she kept her chin up, staring straight out the window at the passing city blocks.

Caius sat beside her, tapping away on his tablet, completely unfazed by the sudden shift in her entire life.

The car glided into the private underground parking bay of the glass skyscraper at the top of the hill. A quiet, polished man in a dark suit opened the door.

"Welcome, Mrs. Ashbourne," the man said with a slight nod. "I am Marcus, Mr. Ashbourne's personal assistant. I will take your luggage upstairs."

"It is... just Elowen, please," she stammered, stumbling slightly on the slick polished concrete.

"Not anymore," Caius said, catching her elbow with a firm, warm grip that sent a sudden spike of awareness through her sleeve. "Come."

The private elevator opened directly into a vast, two level penthouse.

Elowen stopped in the foyer, her breath catching in her throat. The place was stunning, cold, and intimidating. Marble floors gleamed under recessed lights, towering floor to ceiling glass offered a dizzying view of the harbor below, and minimalist modern furniture filled the open living space. There were no family photos, no warm colors, and not a single speck of dust.

"It feels like an art museum," Elowen murmured, hugging her jacket around herself.

"It is private, secure, and fully staffed," Caius said, walking over to a built in bar to pour two fingers of amber liquor into a crystal glass. "Marcus has already stocked the kitchen with whatever provisions you requested. If you need anything specific, tell him."

"Where... where do I put my clothes?" Elowen asked, looking down the wide hallway that branched off toward the west wing. "Which room is the guest suite?"

Caius took a slow sip of his drink, his gray eyes narrowing slightly over the rim of the glass.

"There are no guest suites in this penthouse, Elowen."

"What do you mean? This place is at least six thousand square feet."

"The west wing is my private office and gym," Caius said, setting the crystal glass down on the marble counter with a sharp click. "The east wing is the master suite. Marcus already took your boxes there."

Elowen turned on her heel and walked down the wide hallway. She pushed open the heavy double doors at the far end, hoping against hope that he was simply playing a twisted joke.

He was not.

The master bedroom was enormous, dominated by a massive, custom king sized bed framed in dark walnut and layered with charcoal silk sheets. A sprawling walk in closet sat to the left, and a spa style bathroom was visible through frosted glass on the right.

There were no other doors. No adjoining sitting room with a daybed. No pullout sofa. Just one massive, undeniable bed sitting right in the center of the space.

"You cannot be serious," Elowen said as Caius stepped into the room behind her, loosening his silk tie with one hand. "We need a temporary cot or something. A separate couch. Anything."

"I told you the rules in the office," Caius said, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his crisp white dress shirt. "The household staff comes in at six every morning. My grandfather’s security team has access to the building's maintenance logs. If the cleaners find a second bed made up anywhere in this house, the suspicion begins immediately."

"We can make the bed together before they arrive. We can hide the sheets."

"I do not hide things in my own home, little baker."

Caius pulled his tie free, tossed it onto the dark dresser, and began rolling up his sleeves, revealing muscular forearms corded with veins. He walked toward her slowly, each step deliberate and heavy against the thick rug.

Elowen backed away instinctively until the back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress. She froze, her pulse hammering wildly in her throat as his shadow fell over her.

"I signed the contract for the marriage," she said, her voice dropping into a desperate whisper. "I did not agree to let you take whatever you want whenever you feel like it."

Caius stopped inches away, looking down at her parted lips, his gaze dark, heavy, and intensely dangerous.

"I do not take what is not given, Elowen," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that made her entire body shiver. "And if you are already this terrified of sharing a bed with me, how exactly do you plan to survive being my wife?”