Zara's bar

CHAPTER 11: TANGLED CAGES

The door to Adrian's bedroom opened without a knock, and shut with a slight bang.

I sat at the edge of the bed, he asked me to wait for him here, but I knew he was pissed.

Adrian stood there watching me, His expression was carved from stone, but his eyes… his eyes were a live wire, sparking with a cold, controlled fury.

I squeezed my eyes shut, maybe I should have greeted Alex.

“You smiled at him, and proceeded to greet him”

His voice was a low, quiet rumble. It wasn’t a question.

“I… I was being polite,” I said, my own voice sounding small.

“Polite?” He repeated the word as if it were a disease. He took a step forward, then another, I stepped back accordingly, still holding eye contact, till my back hit the wall.

Shit

He closed the distance between us easily

“You do not need to be ‘polite’ to Alexander, Elera"

He was close, so close I could see the flecks of iron grey in his dark irises, smell the faint, clean scent of his soap and the coffee from breakfast.

My head was fuzzy, I could barely register what he was saying, I just needed him to be away from me, his closeness clouded my senses.

“He is not your friend. He is not a guest. He continued, ignoring my internal turmoil, Adrian’s gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes, searing in its intensity. “When he looks at you, he is calculating how to use you to get to me. How to twist you into a weakness.”

“I’m not a weakness,” I whispered

“Aren’t you?” One hand came up, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. The touch was startlingly gentle, a stark contrast to the hardness in his face. “You are my wife, In the eyes of the world. That makes you a target. And today, you handed him a glimpse of a soft underbelly, I don't like it”

His thumb traced the line of my jaw, I froze. “So here is your only instruction regarding Alexander he said, his voice dropping to an intimate, dangerous murmur. “If he ever tries to touch you again—a handshake, a pat on the arm, You are to report to me, and I'll make sure I chop his hands off"

My eyes widened

"No" I said, " he won't touch me, I'll make sure" I said shaking my head a definitive no

His face was inches from mine now. The heat of his body was a tangible force. My skin tingled where he’d touched me, and a treacherous, unwanted heat pooled low in my stomach.

He suddenly smiled, actually- it reached his eyes

"you're so cute little lamb".

Cute?, I was trying to protect the man downstairs from mutilation and he thought it was cute?

He stepped back. The sudden space between us felt cold, I caught my breath, I could breathe again.

“Good,” he said, his voice returning to its usual, impenetrable calm. He straightened his cuff, a small, precise movement.

“I have to clear up some things at the office."

He strode to the door

"Adrian" I heard myself call out

He turned to me, his brows furrowed

"I'm sorry"

He gave me an expression I couldn't read, amused?, surprised? I didn't know, He turned and left without another word. The door clicked shut, and I was alone again, my skin still burning from his touch, his warning echoing in the sudden silence of the room.

---

I waited until the mansion settled into its evening rhythm. The distant roar of Adrian’s car had faded hours ago. This was my chance.

I changed into dark leggings and a hoodie, tucking my hair under a cap. I slipped down the back staircase, through the empty kitchen, and out the terrace doors.

The service gate at the southern wall was my target. I’d watched the gardener key in the code yesterday. My heart hammered as I reached the keypad. 1-8-9-1?

I punched it in.

A soft beep. A green light. The lock disengaged with a heavy thunk.

I pushed the gate open just wide enough to slip through. On the other side, a beat-up sedan idled at the curb. I hailed it, then slid into the backseat, breathless.

“The Zara's Bar” I told the driver.

As we pulled away, I watched the Blackwood gates shrink in the mirror, a strange triumph churning in my gut.

---

The Zara's bar

Mila was already in a corner booth, two shots of amber tequila waiting like promises of forgetfulness. She’d chosen a spot shadowed by a broken jukebox, perfect for conspiracy.

She loved this place, she said it gave her a break from the posh "tea parties" her dad made her do, a friendly phrase for building connections, since she was heiress of his company.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, pushing one shot toward me.

“Worse. A Blackwood.” The liquor burned a clean path down my throat, a welcome, real sensation. The story of my morning tumbled out in a rushed whisper—Alexander’s oily charm, Adrian’s chilling, possessive warning in my room. The Clothing store and the pictures"

Mila listened, her expressive face shifting from shock to fear to , to glee especially at the mention of the store “Okay, the contract was one thing. "But you have to let your husband let me in his store pleaseeeeeee" she sulked.

I rolled my eyes"fine".” She knocked back her shot and slammed the glass down, smiling " Oh I love you Elera" for now need to blow off steam, this is a lot", lemme get some more booze "Just a little" I yelled at her retreating figure over the loud music " you know I"m light headed"

She headed to the crowded bar for the drinks leaving me alone with the buzzing noise of the bar, the laughter, the clinking glasses—it was all so normal. So human. I took a deep breath, savoring it.

Needing a moment, I stood to find the restroom. It was down a dim, shady looking narrow hallway that ran past the pool tables and the kitchen’s swinging doors. The music faded here, replaced by the hum of a cooler and the sound of my own footsteps.

I was halfway to the single-stall bathroom when I felt him.

A large presence, a wall of stale beer and cheap, musky cologne. He was big, with a thick neck and hands that looked like they could crush cans—or bones. He’d detached himself from a group by the pool table and fallen into step behind me.

“Hey, sweet thing,” he slurred, his voice too close. His breath was hot and sour against my ear. “You’re way too pretty to be hiding in a hoodie. Why don’t you lose it?”

A cold trickle of fear slid down my spine. “I’m fine, thanks,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt. I sped up.

His hand shot out, a meaty paw closing around my wrist with shocking force. His grip was a vise, biting into my skin.

“Don’t be like that,” he grunted, pulling me toward him. His other hand landed on my waist, fingers digging in. “I’m a friendly guy. Just wanna talk.”

Panic, sharp and metallic, flooded my mouth. I was in a dark hallway with a man twice my size.

Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulder

“Let go of me!” I twisted, trying to wrench my arm free, but he was immovable. He used my momentum to shove me back against the grimy wall. The impact knocked the air from my lungs. His body crowded mine, pinning me, his bulk blocking the light from the main bar.

“Just one little kiss,” he breathed, his face pockmarked and leering descending toward mine. The smell of him was overwhelming.

My body trembled, adrenaline filling me.

I brought my knee up, aiming for his groin with all my strength. He saw it coming and shifted, my knee glancing off his solid thigh. He laughed, a low, ugly sound that held no humor.

Oh no, I was done

“Feisty. I like it.” His free hand came up to grip my chin, forcing my head still. “Makes it more fun.”

Terror turned my blood to ice. I opened my mouth to scream.

I never got the chance.