The Golden Cage

Chapter 4

The wind off Lake Washington carried a bitter, biting chill, but Julian didn’t feel it.

He stood on the balcony, his grip on the wrought-iron railing so tight his knuckles bled of color. The words from his security chief echoed in his ears, toxic and heavy.

*The money came from Beatrice Sterling.*

Julian closed his eyes. A very specific, very dangerous kind of rage began to uncoil in his chest. It wasn’t a hot, explosive anger. It was an arctic, methodical fury. The kind that brought down empires.

Beatrice had found out. His stepmother, a woman whose greed was only rivaled by her cruelty, had somehow unearthed the one secret he had buried under millions of dollars of encryption. She knew Maya was the girl who had pulled him out of a rusted shipping container five years ago. She knew Maya was the only reason his heart still beat.

And Beatrice had tried to have her slaughtered over a fake debt to secure her own grip on the company.

"Mr. Sterling?" The voice of Cross, his security chief, crackled quietly over the phone. "Your orders?"

Julian opened his eyes. The gray irises were entirely flat, drained of any humanity. "Double the perimeter guard. Freeze every shadow account tied to Beatrice’s maiden name. And Cross?"

"Yes, sir."

"If a single member of my stepmother’s detail gets within fifty yards of this estate, break their legs."

He ended the call and turned back toward the glass doors. Through the sheer curtains, he could see Maya still curled in the center of the massive bed. She looked so small, completely swallowed by the dark gray sheets.

Julian pressed his palm flat against the cold glass. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back in beside her, to wrap himself around her and physically shield her from the monsters in his world. But he couldn't. If Maya saw how desperate he was, how deeply obsessed he was with keeping her safe, she would realize she had traded one predator for another.

He had to remain the ice king. It was the only way to keep her close without scaring her away.

Maya woke to an empty room.

She blinked against the harsh morning sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The right side of the bed was perfectly made, completely undisturbed. For a second, a strange pang of disappointment flickered in her chest, but she quickly crushed it.

*What did you expect?* she scolded herself, pushing the heavy duvet aside. *He bought a prop, not a partner.*

Yet, as she sat up, she noticed the faint indentation on the pillow next to hers. The subtle, expensive scent of cedarwood and musk lingered in the sheets. She frowned, pressing her fingers against her temple. She hadn't had a nightmare. For the first time in years, she had slept through the night without waking up in a cold sweat.

Pushing the thought away, Maya climbed out of bed and walked into the cavernous closet. True to Julian’s word, it was packed with designer clothing in her exact measurements. Row after row of silk blouses, tailored slacks, and cashmere sweaters. It felt entirely wrong. She picked the simplest thing she could find a cream-colored knit sweater and black trousers and got dressed.

She navigated the winding, silent corridors of the estate until she found the dining room.

Julian was already seated at the head of a massive, dark wood table. He was back in his armor: a flawless navy suit, a crisp white shirt, and a silk tie. He was typing rapidly on a tablet, a cup of black coffee steaming at his elbow.

He didn't look up when she walked in. "There is food on the sideboard. We leave for the office in twenty minutes."

Maya walked over to the buffet, poured a cup of coffee, and ignored the elaborate spread of pastries and fruit. She took a seat two chairs away from him. The silence between them was thick, suffocating.

"I need to go to my apartment," Maya said, breaking the quiet. "I need to get my mother’s necklace and a few of Lily’s books."

Julian’s finger stopped mid-swipe on his tablet. He finally looked at her. His eyes were completely unreadable, shielding the sheer panic her request just ignited in his chest. Letting her out of the fortified estate right now was out of the question.

"No," Julian said smoothly. "I will have someone retrieve your items."

Maya’s jaw tightened. "It’s a necklace, Julian. I want to pack it myself. I’m not a prisoner."

"You are an investment," he countered coldly, forcing the cruel words past his teeth to keep up the facade. "And right now, my investment does not wander the streets of Seattle without a security detail. It’s bad for optics."

He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a small black velvet box, and tossed it onto the polished wood table. It slid to a stop right in front of her coffee cup.

"Put it on," he ordered.

Maya glared at him, picking up the box with reluctant fingers. She popped the lid open.

Her breath hitched. Resting on a bed of white satin was a diamond so large it looked heavy. It was a flawless, emerald-cut stone surrounded by a halo of smaller diamonds, set in platinum. It was blindingly beautiful, and it probably cost more than her entire life was worth.

"It's too much," she whispered, her pride flaring up. "People will know it's fake."

"People will know you are a Sterling," Julian replied, his voice dropping an octave. "And no one touches a Sterling."

Maya looked up at him, startled by the strange, intense gravity in his tone. For a brief second, the corporate mask slipped, and she swore she saw something fiercely protective burning in his gray eyes.

Before she could process it, the heavy double doors of the dining room swung open.

The clatter of expensive heels against the hardwood floor announced the arrival of the intruder before she even spoke.

"Well, well. You certainly didn't waste any time, Julian darling."

Maya tensed. Standing in the doorway was a striking older woman draped in a crimson wool coat. Her blonde hair was pulled into a severe chignon, and her lips were painted a matching, blood-red shade. She radiated an aura of toxic, calculating wealth.

Julian was on his feet in a fraction of a second. The chair scraped violently behind him. The protective instinct he had been trying so hard to hide violently overrode his control. He moved around the table, placing his body deliberately between Maya and the woman.

"Beatrice," Julian said. His voice was no longer cold; it was lethal. "You are trespassing."

Beatrice offered a smile that didn't reach her predatory eyes. "Trespassing? I’m simply here to congratulate my stepson. I heard you visited a judge yesterday afternoon. A secret wedding. It broke my heart not to be invited."

She stepped around Julian, moving with liquid grace, and locked her gaze onto Maya.

Maya stood up slowly, her instincts screaming at her. The air in the room felt suddenly very thin. Julian’s broad shoulders were tense, his hands curled into fists at his sides as if he were preparing for a physical fight.

"And this must be the bride," Beatrice purred, closing the distance. She stopped just inches from Maya, her expensive floral perfume clashing with the bitter scent of her intentions.

Julian stepped forward, his voice a low, terrifying warning. "Take one more step toward her, Beatrice, and I will have security drag you out by your hair."

Beatrice laughed, a sharp, brittle sound. "Oh, Julian. Always so dramatic. I only want to welcome her to the family."

She reached out with terrifying speed and caught Maya’s hands before Maya could pull away. Beatrice’s grip was surprisingly strong. Her perfectly manicured thumbs ran over Maya’s knuckles.

Beatrice leaned in close, bringing her lips right next to Maya’s ear.

"It’s so lovely to finally meet you, Maya," Beatrice whispered, her voice dropping so low only the two of them could hear. "I must admit, given your history, I expected a girl like you to have a little more blood on her hands."