Page 43 of Wicked Embers

I hesitate, my eyes drifting toward the pristine bathroom. Other than slipping into it to call Sabrina, I haven’t explored it yet, and a flicker of unease settles in my chest. “No, I’ll shower now,” I decide, but then pause. “Actually…” I pause as a thought crosses my mind. I haven’t even checked out the shower. The last thing I need is another confusing encounter with a bathroom smarter than me.

Tracy notices my expression, and a knowing smile tugs at her lips. “I’ll put the shower on for you,” she offers, her tone light. “And if you’d like, I can choose something for you to wear for dinner.”

For a split second, I feel like royalty, a princess in a palace, with someone waiting on me hand and foot. But it’s not a feeling that sits well with me. I’m not used to this kind of attention, not used to being treated with such care. It feels wrong.

“No, Tracy,” I say quickly. “You don’t have to fuss over me. I can choose my own clothes.”

She laughs softly, reassuring me. “I don’t mind. Besides, you’re one of the nicer of Radomir’s girlfriends.” Her smile falters. “Shit, sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.”

A sharp flicker of jealousy twists in my chest. Unexpected. Unwanted. It’s only a brief flare, but it catches me off guard. Radomir’s past or present romances are nothing to me—I don’t care. But I can’t shake this feeling inside or the thoughts that start to nag at the back of my mind. I do my best to push them aside and ignore them.

“No need to apologize,” I say gently, shaking my head. “Actually, Tracy, if you can pick something for me, I’d appreciate it.” I force a warm smile and keep my tone light.

I wouldn’t know where to start in a dressing room I could probably fit my bedroom into. Just finding the bikini this afternoon was like wading through a jungle of clothing.

Tracy’s smile returns, and she turns toward my dressing room. “I’ll pick something lovely for you,” she chirps.

“Has Radomir gone to Vegas?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual.

Tracy stops at the dressing room door, her eyes flicker toward me, and she nods, “He’s been gone for about three hours.”

“Three hours?” I splutter in surprise. “I’ve been asleep for that long?” My eyes glance at the large clock hanging over the door. “Fuck! I slept the afternoon away.”

“You did have an early start this morning,” Tracy points out. “And you’ve had quite the emotional upheaval with moving to a new home.”

I purse my lips and nod, not liking the way she saidnew home, which makes this fortress of solitude sound like a cozy cottage with a warm fire in the hearth, a white picket fence, and bluebirds chirping in the trees. This is not my home; it’s my prison.

Tracy disappears into the bathroom and is back a few minutes later.

“The shower is on,” she informs me. “There is a call button beside it if you need me.”

Oh, great.Now I feel like I’m in a retirement home with emergency call buttons in the shower. Maybe there’s one of those stools in there, too.I can use it to help me hang myself with this huge sheet from the space-aged showerhead. Sighing, I slipoff the bed, and with the sheet dragging behind me, I make my way into the steamy bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in front of the mirror, dressed in an impossibly expensive-looking dress. The soft material is cool against my skin and fits me like it was made just for me. The sandals on my feet are impossibly comfortable, and while I look like a million dollars, I feel like a fraud.

Admittedly, I had dreamed of one day having a big house with gorgeous furniture, a vanity of overpriced skincare, and clothes sporting designer tags. But it would’ve been through my own success and hard work—not like it’s some reward for being some rich crime lord’s possession.

I let out a shaky breath, smoothing the fabric down over my waist, and walk toward the door. The moment I step into the hallway, Dolph’s broad frame blocks my path, his expression unreadable.

“Off to dinner?” he asks, his tone clipped.

“No, I thought I’d saddle a horse and ride into town for a night of clubbing,” I mutter sarcastically, brushing past him. The sight of even more guards than usual stops me in my tracks for a few seconds and stokes the embers of my irritation because I know that Radomir’s over-the-top security measures are a warning to me.

As I descend the staircase, the events at the pool earlier flash through my mind: Radomir interrogating me about Matriarch Records, his intensity cold and biting. He doesn’t trust me—that much is clear. And now I can’t help but wonder if he has a reason.Has Matriarch Records tried to contact me? Is that why there are so many damn guards?

The dining room is breathtaking, as always, the kind of luxury that should make anyone feel special. Instead, it amplifies my isolation. This must be what the beast in Beauty and the Beast felt like. The massive table stretches endlessly before me, the plates gleaming under the chandelier’s glow. I sit at one end, feeling like a child at a giant’s table.

The room, so inviting in the day, now feels cold and imposing.

The silence presses in, and the house, once beautiful, seems eerie and hollow, like an old mansion in a horror movie. A shiver snakes down my spine, though I know I’m not really alone. There’s an entire platoon watching over me.

I force myself to eat, but each bite feels mechanical. My thoughts won’t stop racing, bouncing between the upgraded security, Radomir’s accusations, and the gnawing ache of being utterly alone. I’ve been on my own before and have relished every moment, but I never felt alone like I do now.

Finally, unable to take it anymore, as my thoughts snap to what the fuck Radomir is doing in Vegas and who he’s doing it with, I grab my plate and wine glass and head toward the kitchen. Laughter and voices filter through the door, and I pause, surprised.

The warmth of the sound contrasts so sharply with the oppressive silence I’ve just escaped. Taking a breath, I push the door open, and all eyes turn toward me: Tracy, Dolph, and an older woman in a chef’s outfit.

“Are you okay, Miss Dalton?” Tracy asks, her concern evident.

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