Nina's POV

★NINA★

The morning after the gym incident felt like a lesson in suffocation. I expected a pink slip; instead, I got a ghost. Malachi moved through the house like a specter of his former self—rigid, silent, avoiding my gaze. Whenever our eyes nearly met, he would pivot away, his jaw tightening so hard I could almost hear bone grinding against bone.

I sat in the dining room, idly picking at a piece of toast while Lila explained the complicated politics of her stuffed-animal kingdom, when a shadow fell across the table.

Malachi stood there, fully dressed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my entire life. He didn’t sit. Instead, he slid a thin, matte-black card across the table. It landed beside my plate with a soft clack.

I glanced at the card, then back at him, confused. “What is this?”

“A credit card, Nina. I believe the concept is universal,” he said. His voice was cold—sharp and stinging, like dry ice.

Heat flared in my chest, and it had nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with pride. “I know what it is. But why are you giving it to me? I haven’t even been here a week. I don’t need an advance on my pay.”

Malachi finally looked at me, his gaze unyielding. His eyes flicked to my shoulder, where the seam of my faded sundress was beginning to fray. One of only three outfits I owned.

“You are now representing the Kane household,” he said, his tone clipped. “I won’t have my daughter’s caretaker looking like she’s one step away from a shelter. It’s not charity; it’s a uniform requirement.”

The word shelter landed like a slap. I pushed the card back toward him. “I have clothes, Mr. Malachi. They’re clean, and they work just fine. I don’t need you buying me things.”

“Nina,” he growled, leaning forward until his hands rested on the table. The scent of his cologne—cedar and something dangerously powerful—hit me like a wave. “Don’t be difficult. You have three dresses. I’ve counted. You’re going to the city today. Julian is already waiting in the garage. Take Lila, buy whatever you need, and don’t come back until you’ve used that card.”

“But—”

“It wasn’t a request,” he snapped, straightening. “Julian!”

A moment later, a man I’d seen only in passing—tall, sharp-suited, with a kind face—appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Mr. Kane?”

“Take Nina and Lila to the Fifth Avenue boutiques. Make sure she gets everything she needs. And I mean everything.”

He cast me one last look—challenging, unreadable—before turning and leaving the room.

I stared at the black card, fighting the urge to snap it in half.

“He’s just being a boss, Nina,” Lila whispered, tugging on my sleeve. “And shopping is fun! Can we get ice cream too?”

I looked down at her hopeful face and sighed, my anger deflating. “Fine. But I’m only buying the basics.”

The boutique was the kind of place that didn’t put prices on the tags—because if you had to ask, you couldn’t afford it. The air smelled of expensive lilies and unspoken judgment.

The moment we stepped inside, two sales clerks—perfect hair, tight smiles—looked me up and down like I was a stain on their pristine floor.

“Can I help you… find the exit?” one asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

I flushed, gripping my tote bag tighter. “I’m here to look at some dresses.”

The other clerk let out a soft, mocking huff. “I think you’re looking for the department store three blocks down, dear. Our pieces start in the mid–four figures.”

“She’s with me,” Julian’s voice cut in from behind us.

He’d just entered after parking the car, every inch the professional security detail.

“Mr. Kane’s account,” he added, his tone dropping into something sharp and terrifying. “If I have to tell him his guest was treated with anything less than complete respect, I suspect he’ll be finding a new place to spend his millions. Am I clear?”

The transformation was instant. Sneers vanished, replaced with panicked smiles.

“Oh! Of course! We’re so sorry—we didn’t realize—”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Julian interrupted, gesturing toward me. “Apologize to the lady. Then get her the best of everything.”

“I’m so sorry, Miss,” the first clerk chirped, suddenly orbiting me like a frantic bird. “Please, let me show you our new spring collection. These silks would look stunning with your skin tone.”

I felt like an imposter as they led me through the racks. For two hours, it was a blur of fabric and mirrors. Lila had the time of her life picking out “princess dresses” while Julian stood watch near the door.

“Try this one, Nina! It’s the color of the ocean!” Lila shouted, dragging a deep midnight-blue silk slip dress off a mannequin.

It was beautiful.

It was also dangerously low-cut in the back.

“Lila, I don’t think—”

“Please! Just one!”

I took it into the fitting room. As the silk slid over my skin, I gasped. It felt like water—cool, fluid, alive. It hugged my curves in a way that made me feel like someone else entirely. The mirror didn’t show the girl who scrubbed floors or ran from junkies in alleys.

It showed a woman.

When I stepped out, the room went silent. Even Julian blinked, his professional mask slipping.

“Wow,” Lila breathed. “You look like a queen, Nina.”

“We’ll take it,” Julian said firmly. “And the other ten pieces she picked out. Ship them to the estate.”

The ride back was quiet. I felt exhausted—not from shopping, but from the weight of the black card in my bag. Each swipe felt like surrendering another piece of my independence.

When we entered the estate, the sun was setting, casting gold across the marble floors. I still wore the midnight-blue dress; Lila had insisted I wear it home “to show Daddy.”

“Daddy! Daddy, look!” Lila screamed, racing toward the lounge.

I followed slowly, my heart pounding.

Malachi stood by the fireplace, a glass of amber liquid in hand. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked tired—dangerously so.

He turned at Lila’s voice, catching her as she collided with him. “Hey, piccolina. Did you have fun?”

“Yes! And look at Nina! Isn’t she the prettiest girl in the whole world?”

Malachi’s gaze lifted.

The silence that followed was deafening.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t blink. His eyes traveled from my dark hair to my throat, then lower—to the way the silk clung to my body.

The dress suddenly felt like it was disappearing under his stare.

“I… Lila wanted me to wear it,” I stammered, my hand flying to my throat. “I’ll go change. It’s too much.”

“Don’t,” he said.

His voice was no longer cold. It was low, vibrating—thick with something raw that turned the air molten.

He set his glass on the mantle and crossed the room. He stopped far too close. I could smell the scotch on his breath, layered with that dark, masculine scent that haunted my dreams.

His fingers brushed the silk at my waist before settling at the small of my back, pulling me a fraction closer. Heat burned through the fabric.

“You look…” His gaze dropped to my lips, pupils blown so wide his eyes were almost black. “Stunning, Nina.”

My breath hitched. Lila tugged at his jacket, and only then did he look away.

“I—I’ll go inside,” I said quickly.

Our eyes met once more. The hunger there sent my heart racing.

I didn’t walk out of the room.

I ran.