Chapter 4: The Exclusive Escort Agency

I stared at the door long after Rowan left.

My hands were still shaking. My heart was still pounding. The ring on my finger felt like a brand. I touched it again, tracing the diamond, trying to convince myself this was real.

I had married a stranger.

I had married a criminal.

I had married the most dangerous man in the country.

And I had done it because I was desperate.

I closed my eyes. The memory came flooding back. The night I found out about Devon and Serena. The look on his face when I walked in. The way he did not even try to apologize.

"You were never enough for me," he had said. "You were always too busy. Too focused on your own life. Serena actually cares about me."

I had stood there in the doorway of our bedroom, watching him pull the sheets over my sister's naked body, and I had felt something inside me break. Something I had spent years building. Something I had thought would protect me from ever feeling this way again.

My phone buzzed. Natalie again.

I picked it up. "I am fine."

"You are not fine. You just hung up on me and then some man answered your phone and told me he needed to speak with his wife. His wife, Sloane. What is happening?"

I took a deep breath. "It is complicated."

"Uncomplicate it."

I told her. Everything. The escort agency. The no-show. The stranger at the wedding. The ring. The deal. The estate. All of it.

When I finished, Natalie was silent for a long time.

"Natalie?"

"I am thinking."

"About what?"

"About how I am going to kill you."

I almost laughed. Almost. "I know. I know it was reckless. But I did not have a choice."

"You always have a choice. You just chose the most insane option available."

"What was I supposed to do? Walk into that wedding alone? Let them humiliate me?"

"You could have just not gone."

I closed my eyes. "I could not do that. I could not let them win."

Natalie sighed. "Where are you now?"

"His estate. Somewhere outside the city. I do not even know where."

"And he is there? This Rowan Morphy?"

"He is somewhere in the house. He said he had a situation to handle."

"A situation. What kind of situation?"

"I do not know. He would not tell me."

"Sloane, this man is dangerous. You need to get out of there."

"And go where? Home? My father would probably hand me back to him personally if it meant saving his reputation."

Natalie was quiet again. Then she said, "I am coming to get you."

"Natalie—"

"No. I am not letting you stay in that house with a stranger. A criminal. I do not care how powerful he is."

"He said I cannot leave without his permission."

"Then I will make him give you permission."

I shook my head. "You do not understand. He is not the kind of man you argue with."

"Then what kind of man is he?"

I thought about the way he had looked at me. The way he had touched my ring. The way his voice had gone soft when he said I surprised him.

"I do not know yet," I said.

The door opened.

I dropped the phone again. Rowan stood in the doorway, still wearing the white shirt and dark trousers. His eyes went to the phone on the bed, then to my face.

"Natalie again?"

"Yes."

He walked into the room. He did not sit. He just stood there, looking at me.

"I have been thinking," he said.

"About what?"

"About our arrangement. I was too vague earlier. You deserve to know what you are getting into."

I waited.

"My work is not something I can discuss with you. Not yet. But there are people who will try to use you. People who will think that because you are my wife, you are a weakness they can exploit."

"I am not weak."

A small smile crossed his lips. "I know. I saw that tonight. The way you walked into that ballroom. The way you faced your family. The way you looked at me when I said my name. You are not weak."

"Then why are you treating me like I am?"

"Because I do not know you. And until I do, I cannot protect you."

"And how do you plan to get to know me?"

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "Tomorrow. I want to know who Sloane Cross really is. Not the daughter of Richard Cross. Not the woman who loved Devon Brooks. The woman who walked into that wedding and said she was already married."

I stared at him. "Why?"

He looked at me. His dark eyes were unreadable. "Because I need to know what I am protecting."

He turned and walked toward the door.

"Wait," I said.

He stopped.

"What happens if I do not want to be protected?"

He looked over his shoulder at me. His smile was back. "Then you can go back to your family. Back to Devon. Back to being the woman they all pity."

The words stung.

"I am not that woman anymore."

"I know," he said. "That is why I married you."

He walked out. The door closed behind him.

I sat there on the bed, my heart racing.

He had not touched me. He had not threatened me. He had just looked at me and said the words that cut deepest.

I was not that woman anymore.

But I did not know who I was.

I looked at the phone. Natalie was still on the line.

"Sloane?" she said.

"I am still here."

"I heard everything. The door opening. The conversation. I heard his voice."

"What did you think?"

A pause. "I think you need to be careful. But I also think he is telling the truth."

"How do you know?"

"I do not. But I know you. And you have not hung up on me. You have not asked me to come get you. Which means something about him is making you stay."

I had no answer to that.

"Get some sleep," Natalie said. "I will call you tomorrow."

"Okay."

"And Sloane?"

"Yes?"

"Do not let him see you break. Men like him can smell fear."

I almost laughed. "Goodnight, Natalie."

"Goodnight."

I hung up. I placed the phone on the nightstand. I lay back on the bed, still wearing my red dress, still wearing the ring.

I did not know if I could break. I did not know if I had anything left inside me to break.

But I knew one thing.

I was not that woman anymore.

And tomorrow, I was going to find out who I was.

I closed my eyes. The room was silent. But I could hear something outside the door. Footsteps. Soft. Rhythmic. Like someone was pacing back and forth.

Waiting.

Watching.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin and closed my eyes.

Tomorrow, I would face the man who owned my life.

But tonight, I would dream of the woman I used to be.

The woman who did not know what it felt like to be afraid.

The woman who had never walked into a ballroom with a stranger and lied to the world.

The woman who had never felt the cold weight of a wedding ring on her finger.

Tomorrow.

I would face it tomorrow.