Page 5 of The Alpha's Forbidden Heir

The hallway we step into is nothing like the dingy cell I just left. It’s wide and airy, with polished wooden floors that gleam under soft, recessed lighting. The walls are painted a warm, creamy beige, lined with framed arts that look old and expensive.

This isn’t a hideout. It’s a freaking mansion.

“Where are we?” I ask, my voice softer now.

Lila doesn’t answer. Of course.

She leads me up a staircase with a wrought-iron railing that curves gracefully at the top. The carpet runner beneath my bare feet is plush, muting the sound of our steps.

We stop in front of a door at the end of a long corridor. Lila opens it and steps aside, gesturing for me to enter.

The room beyond is… stunning.

It’s spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that let in soft, golden light. The bed is a massive four-poster with crisp white linens and a fluffy duvet that looks like it belongs in a magazine spread. A plush armchair sits by the window, and there’s a vanity in the corner with an ornate mirror that reflects the entire space.

I just stand there; this is the kind of room people dream about staying in on vacation. It’s definitely not the kind of room you expect when you’ve just been kidnapped.

“What is this?”

“Your room,” Lila says simply.

I turn to her, my eyebrows shooting up. “You’re kidding.”

“No. Alpha Bane wants you to clean yourself up.”

I blink. “Alpha?”

Her expression doesn’t change. “The shower is through that door,” she continues, pointing to another door off the main room. “You’ll find everything you need in there. Toothbrush, robe, shampoo. Take your time.”

“And what happens if I don’t?”

She shrugs. “That’s your choice. But you’ll still be dirty.”

Before I can respond, she turns and heads for the door.

“Oh, and there will be guards outside,” she adds over her shoulder. “So don’t get any ideas.”

The door clicks shut behind her, and I’m alone.

I stare at the door for a long moment, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

“What the hell is this?” I mutter, turning back to the room.

The bed looks so inviting I almost want to throw myself onto it, but the thought of getting the crisp white linens dirty stops me. Because she’s right. I’m filthy. My clothes are streaked with dirt, my skin feels grimy, and my hair - well, let’s just say it’s not my best look.

But still. Giving in feels like a defeat, like letting that insufferable man win. And I don’t care how handsome he is with his stupid piercing eyes and his infuriating smirk.

I groan and head for the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

The bathroom is as ridiculous as the bedroom. Marble floors, a glass shower that looks like it belongs in a luxury spa, and a tub so deep I could probably drown in it. A fluffy white robe hangs on a hook by the door, and the counter is lined with neatly arranged toiletries.

I stare at the toothbrush for a long moment, my stomach twisting.

“Maybe he’s not completely terrible,” I whisper.

Then I catch my reflection in the mirror and scowl.

“Get a grip, Aria. He’s still the enemy. A hot enemy, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s a good person.”

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