The Gilded Cage

The black armored Maybach glided north through the rain, crossing the George Washington Bridge before climbing deep into the misty, forested hills of the Hudson Highlands.

Forty minutes outside Manhattan, the car turned through colossal wrought-iron gates bearing a stylized silver wolf crest, winding up a private two-mile driveway surrounded by ancient hemlocks and stone watchtowers.

The Wolfe Estate was an imposing fortress of dark granite, towering glass, and slate roofs perched atop a cliff overlooking the Hudson River.

Kael climbed out, opening Lila's door himself, ignoring the two armed security guards who bowed with rigid deference.

"Welcome to Blackwood," Kael said, guiding her up the grand limestone staircase into the cavernous foyer.

The interior was a breathtaking fusion of Gothic stone arches, dark Brazilian walnut, and contemporary glass. High chandeliers cast golden amber light across classical oil paintings that made Lila's artist heart skip a beat—authentic Turners, Monets, and Caravaggios hanging on the stone walls.

A woman with silver hair pulled into a neat bun and sharp, kind hazel eyes approached with a warm wool shawl.

"Lila, this is Martha," Kael introduced. "She manages the household. Her word is law within these walls. Martha, please escort Ms. Sinclair to the east terrace suite."

"Right away, sir," Martha said, draping the warm shawl around Lila's trembling shoulders. "Come along, my dear. A hot bath and lavender tea are already prepared."

Lila didn't move. She turned to face Kael, crossing her arms over her white silk dress.

"Before I take a single step, Mr. Wolfe," Lila demanded, her voice ringing clear against the vaulted stone ceiling, "I want to know what my duties are. Am I your prisoner? Your bedmate? Or did you spend five million dollars just to put me on display in a private museum?"

The two security guards by the door shifted uncomfortably, but Kael merely tilted his head, his storm-gray eyes gleaming with amused respect.

"You are not a prisoner, Lila," Kael said, stepping closer until his shadow enveloped her. "And I don't force women into my bed. Your father owed five million to men who would have passed you around like a party favor before cutting your throat in an alley. I cleared his debt. You are under my personal protection."

"Nothing in this world is free, Kael," she whispered bitterly.

"No, it isn't," Kael agreed, leaning down until his lips brushed the sensitive curve of her ear, his hot breath scorching her skin. "Your price is simple: you stay inside this estate where Vitelli's scavengers cannot touch you. You eat three meals a day. And you paint. Do we have an agreement, little artist?"

Lila looked up into his scarred, handsome face, feeling an overwhelming jolt of electricity race straight to her core.

"For now," she breathed.

Kael smirked. "Go get warm, Lila. Tomorrow, the real work begins."