Chapter Seven: Gravity

The silk sheets and heavy blankets were surprisingly difficult to knot, but Rhiannon’s stubbornness won. She pulled the final knot tight, testing it with her full weight. It held.

A relieved smile tugged at her lips.

Working quickly, she secured the other end around the thick carved post of the king-sized bed before throwing the makeshift rope through the open window. The blankets unraveled into the darkness below, swaying gently in the icy night breeze.

Taking a steadying breath, she climbed onto the wide stone ledge.

The winter air bit instantly into her bare skin, sending a shiver racing through her body. She glanced down, and her stomach lurched.

Far below, a narrow stone terrace stretched along the side of the mansion before giving way to endless forest. The sheer drop disappeared into darkness, making her head spin.

Doubt crept into her mind. One wrong move, and this could end very badly.

But the thought of being locked away by an arrogant corporate dictator pushed her forward.

“No chance.”

If the only alternative was remaining trapped inside this ridiculous mansion, she’d take her chances with the climb.

Shoving her fears down, she gripped the fabric tightly and lowered herself out the window.

Step by step, her boots scraped against the rough stone walls of the mansion. The wind howled around her, making the blankets sway violently. Her fingers ached from gripping the fabric so tightly, and every movement pulled painfully at the muscles in her arms and shoulders. Even breathing became difficult as the climb stretched on.

‘Just a little further,’ she told herself, eyeing a dark stone terrace about fifteen feet below.

Then, her foot slipped on a patch of black ice clinging to the stone facade.

Rhiannon’s eyes widened.

“No!”

The sudden jolt tore her other foot away from the wall, and her sweat-slick hands lost their grip on the blankets. The blanket rope ripped through her fingers.”

“Aaah—!”

A scream caught in her throat as gravity took over.

Rhiannon braced for the bone-shattering impact against the stone terrace below, closing her eyes tightly.

The impact never came.

With a sudden rush of wind, a pair of massive, iron-hard hands caught her right out of midair. The impact slammed her safely against a broad, solid chest. The familiar, suffocating scent of dark mint and winter frost flooded her senses, warm and entirely unyielding.

Rhiannon’s eyes snapped open.

Theron stood on the dark terrace, his face completely composed beneath the moonlight.

He was holding her effortlessly with one arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her flush against his chest. In his other hand, he held a glass of water, completely undisturbed.

Not a single drop had spilled.

"Looking for a midnight stroll, little bird?"

Theron murmured, his deep baritone sending a shiver down her spine.

Her heart stuttered for a beat, before she became aware of the current situation. She had been caught.

"Let go of me!" Rhiannon yelled, her face burning with a mix of fear and embarrassment. She immediately started writhing in his grip, pushing her hands against his hard shoulders. "Put me down, Vance!"

Theron didn't budge. He calmly set the untouched glass on the stone railing beside them before returning his attention to her. His dark eyes swept over the blanket rope dangling from the bedroom window, then settled on her flushed face.

“I’m impressed,” he sneered. "A few minutes ago, you were dying on my floor. Now, you are scaling the walls of my estate like a common thief. Care to explain?"

Rhiannon glared at him, refusing to be intimidated.

"You wouldn't let me leave! You confiscated my phone and locked me in a room. What did you expect me to do, sit nicely and wait for you to dictate my life?"

"I expected you to drink your water," Theron replied coldly. He picked up the silver cup again and held it to her lips, his body boxing her against the terrace railing. "Drink."

"No!" She snapped her head away. "I’m not taking anything from you. Take me back to my apartment, or I’ll scream so loud your entire security detail will hear it."

"Let them hear it," Theron whispered, leaning down until his lips were inches away from her ear. His dark eyes locked onto her fierce, stubborn face. "They take orders from me, Rhiannon. Not from a stubborn little human who thinks she can survive a three-story drop."

"I would have made it if the wall wasn't icy," she hissed, her hazel eyes flashing.

Theron’s gaze dropped to her lips. His jaw clenched as a dark, intense hunger flickered in his eyes.

"You will not attempt this again," Theron warned, his voice turning low. "Next time, I might not be standing downstairs to catch you."

Rhiannon narrowed her eyes. "Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise," Theron murmured. Before she could protest, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms.

“Put me down, Vance!”

Ignoring her angry protests, he carried her back inside the warm mansion, shutting the terrace doors behind them.

“Urrrghh!” Rhiannon sighed in frustration as she struggled in his grip.

“Stay still,” he warned.

Instead of obeying, Rhiannon twisted harder in his arms.

Theron let out a slow breath and adjusted her higher against his chest, his hand sliding just enough along her waist to keep her from slipping.

The movement pressed her flush against him. She froze.

“Comfortable?” he murmured.

Heat rushed to her face, leaving her momentarily speechless.

—

Theron didn't take her back to the bedroom. Instead, he carried her down a long, dimly lit hallway and into a vast, lavish dining hall. A massive mahogany table stretched across the room, lit by a grand crystal chandelier.

He set her down in a plush leather chair at the head of the table. Almost instantly, a servant dressed in black entered, placing a plate of hot, rich food in front of her along with a fresh glass of water.

"Eat," Theron commanded, taking the seat directly adjacent to her. He crossed his arms, his dark gaze pinning her to the spot.

Rhiannon crossed her arms, turning her head away from the plate. "I'm not eating your food. I want my phone, and I want to call Devon."

“That’s unfortunate,” he said calmly “Because you’re going to eat.”

Before she could fire back, a sharp, distinct vibration cut through the silent room.

It was coming from Theron's pocket. He pulled out a sleek, encrypted black smartphone, then glanced at the screen with tightened jaw.

Rhiannon's eyes darted to the phone. "Is that Devon?" she asked, leaning forward. "Let me talk to him!"

Theron ignored her, sliding his thumb across the screen to answer the call. He put it on speaker, placing the device on the table between them.

"Vance," Devon’s rough voice boomed through the speaker. There was a desperate panic in his tone, but it was heavily strained. "Where is my sister? Julian said your men took her. I've been calling her phone for an hour."

Rhiannon immediately lunged toward the table. "Devon! I'm here! He locked me in his—"

With lightning speed, Theron's large hand clamped down over the screen, his thumb hitting the mute button before her voice could fully carry through. He glared at her silently, a warning in his eyes, before unmuting the line.

"She is with me, Devon," Theron said smoothly, his deep baritone carrying an effortless weight. "She fainted at the university. As your ‘childhood friend,’ I took it upon myself to ensure she received the best attention at my private estate."

On the other end of the line, Devon went dead silent for a long beat. Rhiannon could hear her brother's heavy, ragged breathing through the speaker.

Devon knew the cover story was a total lie, but he also knew exactly what Theron was.

"Is she... is she alright?" Devon asked, his voice noticeably lower than before. "Please, Theron. Let me speak to her."

Theron looked at Rhiannon's furious face.

"She is resting, Devon," he lied smoothly, his eyes never leaving hers. "She needs absolute quiet and zero stress. I will personally ensure she returns to her apartment once her condition stabilizes. You have my word."

A heavy, tense silence stretched over the line. Devon clearly hated it, but he had no choice but to accept.

"I understand," he muttered tightly, his voice laced with suppressed anxiety. "Just... please keep her safe, Vance. I'm trusting you."

"You know she is safe with me," Theron murmured into the line.

He ended the call before Devon could say another word, sliding the phone back into his pocket.

Rhiannon stared at him in disbelief. "An old childhood friend? You just lied straight to his face! And why did Devon sound like that? He never backs down from anyone!"

"Because your brother understands what you do not," Theron replied coldly, leaning forward over the table. "He trusts me to do what is necessary to keep you alive. Right now, little bird, that means staying here, eating your dinner, and resting."

"He doesn't know you're keeping me a prisoner!" Rhiannon snapped, her temper hitting its limit. "You are a monster, Vance."

Theron’s obsidian eyes darkened to a terrifying pitch. A dangerous, possessive vibration hummed deep in his chest.

"You have no idea what a monster looks like, Rhiannon. Now eat. Before I decide to feed you myself."