6. Did you poison it?

Warm steam wrapped around my skin as I stepped into the bathroom—or more accurately, the private spa room. The floor was heated marble, the ceiling high with a soft, luxurious chandelier. The shower flowed like a waterfall, and the bathtub was large enough to drown in. Every soap and shampoo smelled faintly expensive. It felt like I was being bathed in heaven… if only I wasn’t aware I was living with the devil.

I walked under the shower, letting the water soak me completely. The anti-fog mirror reflected my pale face, damp hair clinging to my shoulders. It wasn’t just my body I wanted to scrub clean. My thoughts were far filthier.

What have I done?

I stared at my wrist—no longer bleeding. The wound was gone, but the guilt was deeper. I had traded my life … for a contract I didn’t even fully understand.

And yet, I couldn’t lie. A small part of me didn’t regret it. That was the most terrifying part.

After the shower, I pulled on one of the plush white robes hanging behind the door. My steps led me back to the room. On one side, a walk-in closet with glossy wooden doors lit up automatically as I approached.

And there, neatly arranged along one side of the wall, was only one type of clothing.

Dresses. White. All of them.

I didn’t get the chance to process that before Ash’s voice floated in gently from outside the room.

“Lena. Come eat.”

I glanced at myself in the mirror briefly, then stepped out, slipping into one of the white satin dresses that kissed my skin.

Ash waited in the hallway, still in his pristine black shirt. He smiled when he saw me—like a man pleased with his purchase.

“I want to eat in front of the TV. On the couch,” I said lightly, testing him.

His eyes narrowed for a second, as if gauging my intent. But all that left his lips was a small smile.

“Then,” he said calmly, “follow me.”

And when I stepped into the hallway, the world shifted completely.

Endless corridors with high arched ceilings made of dark stone. The walls were rough gray and black, adorned with ancient paintings staring from dusty frames. Thick pillars supported the towering ceilings, carved with gothic faces that looked disturbingly human. The dim light came from massive candles lodged into metal sconces along the walls—flickering, warm, yet mournful.

My steps echoed on the cold black marble floor, a deep red carpet stretched ahead like congealed blood. Stained glass windows cast pale moonlight through their panes, giving the place an eerie yet reverent air. This house felt like a cathedral built to worship something that should never be worshipped.

Ash walked ahead, silent. He led the way to a lounge, and for a moment, I half-expected to be taken to a basement—or a sacrificial altar.

Instead, we entered a large lounge room, with a giant TV screen mounted on the stone wall and a velvet gray couch that looked far too soft for a place this grim. Without a word, Ash patted the sofa cushion, motioning for me to sit. When I did, he vanished for a moment into the next room.

He returned shortly—carrying a large tray of hot food: toasted bread with butter and jam, roasted meat, steaming mushroom soup, and a cup of tea.

He actually served me—placing everything on the small table in front of me, then pulling a cushion to support my back.

“You’re seriously committed to this?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at the plate.

“You wanted to eat in front of the TV. I’m just fulfilling your request.” He grinned, lounging back against the sofa.

I stirred the mushroom soup with my spoon. “Did you poison it?” I asked casually.

“I’m the one who wants you alive and well more than anyone, little lamb. Haven’t you figured that out?”

I shrugged. “Fair point.”

A long exhale came from his direction as I took a spoonful of the soup. It tasted … surprisingly decent.

“By the way,” I said, “Is that going to be my room?”

He turned. “Of course. All of it’s yours—the bed, the closet, even the upstairs room. You’re free to decorate and use it however you want.”

I looked down at the dress I was wearing and asked, “And why are there only white dresses? Is that some kind of devil world dress code?”

He looked me over, top to bottom, and his smile deepened. Flirty and dangerous. “I like seeing you in white,” he said in a lower, more personal tone. “You look clean ... pure ….” He leaned closer, whispering just beside my ear, “and that makes me want to ruin you.”

My cheeks heated instantly, and I shoved him back without thinking.

He chuckled softly. “Even so,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just said something that could stop my heart, “you’re free to choose. But if you keep wearing white … I might be even more tempted.”

I pretended not to be affected. But as I chewed on a piece of meat, a plan started forming in my head.

If he liked me in white, then tomorrow I’d find anything that wasn’t white. Black, red, denim, even the most obnoxious neon I could find—I’d wear it. Anything to wipe that smug smile off the devil’s face. I wanted Ash to know I still had control over my life. That I could still choose.

Then reality slapped me in the face.

I had no money.

I didn’t even know if this world was the same as before I got taken. Could I even walk out the door? Was my ID still valid? Hell, was I even alive, or already half-submerged between two realms—human and whatever Ash belonged to?

I stared at my plate, scowling, hating the fact that the only thing I had right now—God help me—was this insane bastard.

“I have no money,” I muttered to myself, not meaning to say it aloud.

Ash, lounging at the end of the couch, turned sharply. “Excuse me?”

I sighed. “Tomorrow I want to go out. Buy clothes—ones that aren’t white. But I realized ... I have no money. My wallet’s gone, my accounts are probably frozen, and I might already be a missing person.”

“Didn’t you see the safe in the closet?”

I snapped my head toward him. “Safe?”

He nodded lightly. “Back wall, hidden behind the wood panel on the bottom shelf. The code is the date we first met.”

My blood went cold. I hadn’t even touched that part yet.

Ash leaned his head back against the sofa, eyes staring at the ceiling like he was recalling a pleasant memory. “You might find enough in there to buy out an entire boutique, Lena. Consider it part of the contract.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “How can you get that much money anyway?”

He glanced at me, then gave that wicked little smile. “I’ve spent thousands of years watching humans sell everything for wealth. Souls, dignity, family.” He shrugged. “I just collect the leftovers. You happen to live among the remains of their deals.”

I felt slightly sick. And also … a bit intrigued.

I’d open that safe. Later.

And maybe tomorrow, I’d wear a bright red dress just to see Ash’s reaction.