Chapter 11
Lyla Rose
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I roam around the penthouse, restless and unsure of what to do with myself. The quiet hum of the place only makes my thoughts louder. I move from one room to the next, but most of the doors are locked. I can't help but wonder what's behind them, what secrets Carter keeps hidden. Curiosity gnaws at me, but there's something in the back of my mind telling me not to press further.
I approach one of the locked doors cautiously, fingers grazing the cold, ornate handle. But I pull my hand back, my heart beating faster. What if I find something I shouldn't? The feeling of unease intensifies. I can't shake the thought that there are things in this penthouse I'm not meant to know. It's as if the house itself is hiding something, something I'm not ready to face.
Shaking my head, I turn away from the door and wander further into the penthouse, trying to distract myself. My footsteps echo softly against the marble floors, but the silence only makes me feel more anxious. The walls seem to close in, and I begin to feel like I'm trapped in a place that doesn't quite belong to me.
Suddenly, I hear a loud howl coming from the forest outside. My body freezes, the sound slicing through the air like a warning. Another howl follows, louder this time, and I realize with a rush of cold dread that there are wolves in the forest nearby. My skin prickles, and an overwhelming sense of vulnerability washes over me. I rush to the bedroom window, my hands shaking as I slam it shut, locking it with trembling fingers.
The howls echo again, the noise growing nearer, and I can't help but feel like something, or someone, is watching me. I pull the curtains tight, but the feeling doesn't go away. My heart races as I stand there in the silence, trying to calm my breath. What is it about this place that makes everything feel so wrong?
I sit down on the bed, my thoughts spinning, but it's at that moment that I hear footsteps outside the door.
Carter returns and announces loudly.
"You're my date tonight," he says firmly, adjusting his bow tie in front of the mirror. "It's expected that I bring a woman. You'll be on my arm all night. Smile, nod, look pretty. That's all you have to do."
I sit on the bed in silence, feeling a lump form in my throat. I don't want to be his date.
"I don't have time for your mood, tesoro," Carter growls, his tone sharp as he steps toward me. He grabs my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. "You want to leave this penthouse? Attend events? Have any semblance of freedom? Then you'll do exactly as I say. Tonight, you're mine. Understood?"
His thumb strokes my cheek gently, but there's a coldness in his voice that makes it impossible to ignore.
I can't hold back the question that's been gnawing at me. "How am I yours?" I ask, frowning deeply. "Last I remember, your nephew divorced me. I'm not your family. I'm not your girlfriend."
His jaw tightens for a moment, and I think he's about to snap, but instead, he laughs, a humorless, almost bitter sound. "Family or not, you're under my roof, eating my food, wearing my clothes. Tonight, you're my date. End of discussion." He releases my chin roughly, his voice taking on an edge. "Now get dressed before I dress you myself."
I want to protest more, but the words get caught in my throat. "I don't feel like going," I finally say, my voice quieter now. "What if Vincent will be there with his wife? I don't want to see that." My eyes drop to the bed, as if looking away will hide the hurt I'm feeling. I'm not sure if I'm ready to face him, especially not with Maria by his side.
"I don't care if you feel like going or not," Carter responds coldly, his voice firm as he moves toward the closet. "You're going. End of discussion." He pulls out a stunning black gown that will hug my curves perfectly, the kind of dress I would've never imagined wearing. "This is what you're wearing," he says with finality, tossing it onto the bed.
"I said I don't want to go," I repeat, my voice gaining strength, but I don't reach for the dress. My heart feels heavy, the weight of Vincent's betrayal pressing down on me. I don't want to play this game. I don't want to see him tonight.
Carter slams the closet door shut and turns back to me, his eyes flashing with anger. "Listen carefully, princess. I don't give a fuck what you want. You're going to this gala with me, and you're going to look fucking stunning while you do it."
The sharpness in his words stings, but I don't have the strength to fight him. Not anymore.
"Why?" I finally ask, the sadness in my voice unmistakable. "If Vincent's going to be there with Maria... I don't think I can handle it."
Carter's expression softens for just a second before it hardens again. He walks toward me, closing the space between us until he's standing so close I can feel the heat radiating off him. "So what if he's there with her?" he says, his voice low but firm. "You're his ex-wife now. You have no claim on him anymore. Not after everything he did." He grabs my face, his touch rough but not unkind. "But you are coming with me tonight, and you will enjoy it. Understand?"
I meet his eyes, my heart aching at his words, but I can't deny the truth in them. "It'll hurt me, seeing him with Maria," I admit quietly, looking up at him. My voice cracks slightly. "It's hard to see him move on so easily."
Carter's eyes soften again, but only for a moment. "I know it will," he says softly, his thumb brushing my cheek as he lowers his face closer to mine. "But you need to see it. You need to move on. And tonight, you'll be on my arm instead of his." He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, his voice taking on a hint of warmth. "Trust me, tesoro."
I blink slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. I hadn't considered the idea of making Vincent feel the sting of my moving on, but the thought brings a small spark of defiance. "You're right," I say, my tone lighter now. "I should go. Make him feel like I've moved on, and make him jealous. You're his uncle. Of course, he'll be pissed that I moved on with you so quickly."
A smirk pulls at the corner of Carter's lips, clearly enjoying the thought of making Vincent jealous. "Exactly," he replies, his voice tinged with amusement. He steps back, his eyes raking over me as if imagining the scene already. "Now, get dressed. The car will be here in an hour. I want you looking like the fucking queen you are."
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