The Golden Cadge

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the large black box that had been delivered to my dorm an hour ago. It was heavy, and the ribbon was real silk. I didn't have to guess who it was from. I pulled the small card out of the envelope and felt my heart skip a beat.

Wear this at seven, or I’ll come put it on you myself. — Silas.

I scoffed, but my hands were shaking as I lifted the lid. Inside was a dress that looked like it cost more than my car. It was a deep emerald green with a high neckline—perfect for hiding the mark—and a back that dipped dangerously low. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

"I shouldn't go," I whispered to the empty room. "I should just stay here and lock the door."

But I knew Silas. He wasn't like Alaric, who used school to trap me. Silas used his shadow and his money. If he said he would come here, he would. I couldn't risk him showing up at a girls' dorm in a five-thousand-dollar suit.

By seven o'clock, I was standing in front of the mirror. The dress fit like a second skin. I did my hair in a way that felt sophisticated, but I still felt like a fraud. I was just Elena, the girl with the cheating ex-boyfriend and a pile of student loans. I didn't belong in a dress like this.

A sleek black limousine was waiting downstairs. The driver didn't say a word; he just opened the door. Silas was sitting inside, looking like a king. He was wearing a tuxedo that was so perfect it made my breath hitch.

"You look breathtaking, Elena," he said, reaching out to take my hand as I sat down.

"I feel like I'm playing dress-up," I admitted.

"Nonsense. You were born for this," he murmured. He didn't let go of my hand. He kept his fingers interlaced with mine for the entire drive, his thumb tracing circles over my knuckles. It felt warm and safe, which only made me more confused.

The gala was held in a massive ballroom filled with crystal chandeliers and the sound of a live orchestra. Men in expensive suits and women dripping in diamonds were everywhere. As soon as we walked in, heads turned. Silas didn't seem to notice. He kept me tucked close to his side, his arm firmly around my waist.

"Just stay close to me," he whispered. "Most of these people are vultures."

For the first hour, he was the perfect date. He introduced me as his guest, laughed at people's jokes, and made sure I always had a glass of sparkling water or champagne in my hand. He was charming and polite.

But under the table during dinner, things were different. While he talked to a business partner about real estate, his hand moved to my thigh. It wasn't a quick touch. He gripped my leg firmly, his palm hot against my dress. He didn't move it once. Every time a man looked my way or tried to engage me in conversation, Silas’s grip would tighten just a little bit, a silent reminder of who I was with.

"Are you okay, darling?" he asked, turning to me with a bright, public smile. "You haven't eaten much."

"I'm fine," I said, my voice sounding strained. My skin was tingling everywhere he touched me. "I think I just need a moment. The crowd is a bit much."

"Of course," he said, finally letting go of my leg. "I have to finish this conversation with Mr. Sterling. Why don't you go find the bar? I'll join you in ten minutes."

I stood up, feeling like I could finally breathe. I wandered over to the far side of the ballroom where the bar was tucked away in a quieter corner. I leaned against the counter, watching the dancers.

Why was I doing this? Why was I letting a man I barely knew buy me clothes and dictate my night? And why did I still feel Alaric’s voice in my head, or the memory of Killian’s rough hands? It felt like I had three different men breathing down my neck at all times, even when they weren't there.

"It’s a beautiful party, isn't it?"

I turned to see a younger man standing next to me. He had a kind face and was wearing a suit that looked a bit too big for him. He looked like an intern or a junior staff member.

"It is," I said, glad for a normal conversation. "A bit overwhelming, though."

"I'm Leo," he said, sticking out a hand. "I’m with the catering firm, but I’m off the clock now. You look like you’re looking for a way out."

I laughed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Just a hunch. Would you like to—"

Leo stopped mid-sentence. His eyes went wide, and his face turned pale. I didn't even have to turn around to know that Silas was standing behind me. The air in the corner suddenly felt ten degrees colder.

"Is there a problem here?" Silas’s voice was smooth, but it had an edge like a razor.

"No! No problem," Leo stammered, backing away so fast he almost tripped. "I was just... I was just leaving. I didn't know she was with you. I’m so sorry."

Leo turned and fled into the crowd without looking back. I turned to Silas, feeling a flash of anger.

"He was just being friendly, Silas. You didn't have to scare him like that."

Silas didn't answer. He just looked at me, his blue eyes dark and unreadable. He reached out and grabbed my wrist, not roughly, but with a firm grip that told me he wasn't going to let go.

"We're leaving this conversation," he said.

He led me away from the bar and through a set of heavy double doors into a hallway lined with quiet offices and coat closets. He pushed open the door to a small, private cloakroom. He pulled me inside and shut the door, locking it with a quiet click.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my heart hammering.

Silas didn't say a word. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, silver silk tie. He stepped behind me, and before I could protest, he pulled my hands behind my back.

"Silas, stop," I whispered, though my body wasn't fighting him.

He tied around my wrists, knotting it loosely. It didn't hurt, but the feeling of being bound made my head spin. He turned me around to face him. I was trapped between his body and the racks of coats.

"I don't like other men talking to you, Elena," he said, his voice a low, dark hum. "I don't like the way they look at you. I want to see if you’ll struggle. I want to see if you really want to leave."

He leaned in and kissed me. It wasn't a slow kiss. It was a deep, hungry claim. With my hands tied behind me, I couldn't push him away, and I couldn't pull him closer. I was completely at his mercy.

I felt a wave of heat crash over me. I was dripping wet, my body reacting to the restraint in a way that terrified me. I wanted him to keep going, and I wanted to run away at the same time. I let out a soft moan against his lips, and he groaned, his hands roaming over the curves of the dress.

He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against mine. He looked at my bound wrists and then at my flushed face. "You’re not struggling, Elena. Why aren't you struggling?"

"I don't know," I choked out. "Please. Just take me home. I can't be here."

Silas looked at me for a long moment, his eyes softening just a fraction. He reached behind me and untied the silk, letting it fall to the floor. He didn't say anything as he tucked it back into his pocket.

"Fine," he said. "I'll take you home."

The drive back was silent. Silas looked out the window, and I sat as far away as possible, staring at my hands. I felt like a monster. Was I a nympho? Was there something broken in my brain that made me enjoy being tied up by a man who treated me like a prize? I had spent years thinking I was a normal, boring girl, but now I didn't recognize myself at all.

As the car pulled up to my dorm, Silas leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"Sleep well, Elena," he said. "I'll call you tomorrow."

I ran inside without looking back.