A gloved hand shot out from behind the curtain and covered Stacy's mouth.
The tray slipped from her fingers.
Plates shattered across the marble floor.
The lights went out instantly.
Darkness swallowed the dining hall.
Gasps filled the room.
"What the hell?" Reid's voice rang out.
"Someone turn on the lights!" Dylan shouted.
A chair scraped loudly. Bethany let out an annoyed cry as something brushed past her.
Franco was already on his feet, silent and alert.
Trinidad's heart slammed against her ribs.
"Stacy!"
She moved toward where the girl had stood, but in the darkness she bumped into the table.
Strong hands caught her before she fell.
Colt.
Even without seeing him, she knew.
His grip was firm on her waist for one second before he released her.
"Stay where you are," his deep voice ordered.
"I need to check on Stacy!"
"No."
"I'm not asking permission."
Before he could stop her, a faint emergency light flickered on from the hallway, casting weak golden shadows across the room.
It was enough.
Trinidad ran.
She hurried toward the doorway where the tray had fallen. Broken glass glittered on the floor. A spoon rolled in circles before stopping.
But Stacy was gone.
A strange silence followed.
Then—
A soft whimper came from the side corridor.
Trinidad turned and rushed toward it.
She found Stacy crouched beside the wall, trembling violently, tears running down her cheeks.
"Stacy!"
Trinidad dropped beside her.
The petite maid immediately grabbed her arm like a lifeline.
"H-He…" Stacy cried.
"Who? Who touched you?"
Before Stacy could answer, footsteps thundered down the hall.
Colt appeared first, followed by Reid, Dylan, Franco, and two guards.
The emergency lights came fully back on.
The mansion glowed once more.
Colt's sharp gaze swept over Trinidad kneeling beside Stacy.
Then over the maid's terrified face.
Then over the corridor.
His jaw hardened.
"Who was here?" he asked coldly.
Stacy shook uncontrollably.
"I-I don't know, sir. I didn't see his face."
Reid cursed under his breath.
Dylan ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, that's not normal breakfast behavior."
Bethany arrived behind them, arms crossed.
"All this drama in one morning."
Trinidad ignored her and helped Stacy stand.
Something crinkled beneath her shoe.
She looked down.
A folded piece of paper lay beside the wall.
No one else noticed.
Quickly, she bent as if picking up broken glass and slipped the note into her sleeve.
Colt saw the movement.
His eyes narrowed.
But he said nothing.
"Take Stacy to rest," he ordered a maid.
The girl clung to Trinidad for one more second before being led away.
Then Colt turned to his guards.
"Check every camera. Lock the east and west wings. No one leaves the estate."
The guards nodded and rushed off.
Reid whistled softly.
"Whoever did that is brave… or stupid."
Franco's gaze moved to the curtains, then to the balcony windows.
Calculating.
Searching.
Bethany sighed dramatically.
"I lost my appetite."
Dylan muttered, "You had one?"
She glared at him.
Trinidad started to walk back toward the dining hall when Colt's voice stopped her.
"You. Stay."
Everyone looked between them.
Trinidad stiffened.
"I have a name."
"Good for you," he said coolly. "Come with me."
He turned and walked away without checking if she followed.
Arrogant devil.
Still, she followed.
He led her into a private study.
The room smelled of leather, cedarwood, and power.
Dark shelves lined the walls, filled with books and files. Tall windows overlooked the city. A black desk sat at the center like a command post.
Colt closed the door behind them.
The click sounded far too loud.
Trinidad folded her arms.
"What now?"
He took two slow steps toward her.
"What did you hide?"
Her stomach tightened.
"I hid nothing."
"Lie better."
His eyes dropped to her sleeve.
He had noticed.
Of course he had.
She backed away instinctively.
He kept coming.
"I said," he murmured, voice dangerously low, "what did you hide?"
Trinidad pulled the folded paper from her sleeve and held it behind her back.
"It's none of your business."
A humorless laugh escaped him.
"In my house, everything is my business."
He reached for her.
She dodged left.
He caught her wrist.
The paper nearly fell.
"Let go of me!"
"Give it."
"No!"
She tugged.
He pulled harder.
The force sent her stumbling forward.
Straight into his chest.
Both of them froze.
Her breath caught.
His hand still circled her wrist. Her free palm pressed against his shirt, feeling the hard warmth beneath the fabric.
For one suspended second, neither moved.
Then Colt's gaze dropped to her lips.
The air changed.
Hotter.
Heavier.
Trinidad snatched herself away as if burned.
"Stay away from me!"
She threw the note onto the desk.
"There! Take it!"
Colt picked it up and unfolded it.
His expression darkened immediately.
Trinidad tried to read it upside down but he crushed it in his fist too fast.
"What does it say?" she demanded.
"That's not your concern."
She stared at him in disbelief.
"You drag me in here, accuse me, nearly break my wrist, and now it's not my concern?"
His eyes met hers.
"It says enough."
"That means nothing!"
"It means," he said coldly, "you will not leave this mansion alone from today."
Her jaw dropped.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"I am not your prisoner!"
"You are my wife."
"Fake wife!"
His mouth twitched.
"Yet still under my protection."
"I don't need your protection."
"Then you're a fool."
The insult made her see red.
She marched up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest.
"You don't get to control me because you have money!"
He looked at the finger pressing his shirt.
Then at her furious face.
Then slowly covered her hand with his.
The heat of his palm made her pulse jump traitorously.
"Careful," he said softly. "You're touching me without permission."
She yanked her hand back.
Monster.
Arrogant, handsome monster.
A knock interrupted them.
Reid poked his head in.
"Should I come back later? The tension in here could pay rent."
Trinidad stepped away immediately.
Colt's expression turned blank.
"What?"
Reid grinned.
"Your guests are still alive. Barely. And Bethany is two seconds away from starting a war."
"Handle it."
"I tried. She threw a spoon at Dylan."
From the hallway came Dylan's offended shout.
"It was a fork!"
Reid shrugged.
"See?"
Even Trinidad almost smiled.
Colt noticed.
Something unreadable flashed in his eyes.
Then vanished.
"Go to your room," he told her.
She lifted her chin.
"Gladly."
As she passed him, he said quietly,
"And don't test me, Trinidad."
She paused at the door.
"Then stop acting test-worthy, Colt."
Reid slapped a hand over his mouth to hide a laugh.
Trinidad walked out before anyone could see the smile threatening her lips.
The rest of the day passed strangely.
Designers arrived with clothes.
Staff came with schedules.
A woman measured her for jewelry.
Another offered spa appointments.
Trinidad felt like a doll everyone wanted to decorate.
Only Stacy made it bearable.
The timid maid stayed close, though she still jumped at sudden sounds.
By evening, the two sat on the bedroom floor surrounded by shopping bags.
"Do rich people always buy this much?" Trinidad asked, holding up a silk robe that probably cost more than her old rent.
Stacy giggled.
"Only when Mr. Clifford is interested."
Trinidad frowned.
"Interested in what?"
Stacy's eyes widened.
"I-I mean… interested in appearances!"
Too late.
Trinidad noticed the blush.
Before she could question further, another maid entered.
"Madam, Mr. Clifford requests your presence downstairs."
Again?
She sighed and stood.
"What now?"
The back garden glowed under hanging lights.
Soft music played from hidden speakers.
A private evening gathering had been arranged.
Reid lounged near the fountain with a drink.
Dylan was singing badly on purpose while annoying Bethany.
Franco sat on a low wall, watching the stars.
And Colt stood apart from everyone, one hand in his pocket, looking like he owned the night itself.
When Trinidad approached, conversations paused.
Reid whistled.
"She's prettier in moonlight. Unfair."
Dylan nodded solemnly.
"Criminally unfair."
Bethany's smile looked painful.
Franco glanced at Trinidad.
Then back at the sky.
"Cream suits you."
Dylan gasped again.
"He complimented her twice in one day! Record this!"
Trinidad laughed softly.
The sound made Colt's gaze snap to her.
For a second, he simply stared.
Then he held out his hand.
"Dance."
She blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"I don't dance."
"Learn."
"That's not how learning works."
Reid leaned toward Dylan.
"I'd pay to watch this."
Dylan nodded. "Same."
Colt stepped closer.
Too close.
His scent surrounded her—clean, dark, expensive.
He lowered his voice so only she could hear.
"You embarrassed me at breakfast. Don't do it again."
She frowned.
"I ate food."
"You ignored me."
"That sounds like a personal problem."
A dangerous smile touched his lips.
Then, without warning, he caught her waist and pulled her against him.
She gasped.
Music swelled.
The others cheered instantly.
His hand settled at the small of her back. Her fingers landed against his shoulder by instinct.
Their bodies moved.
Slowly.
Too naturally.
Trinidad hated how easily he led.
Hated how warm he felt.
Hated how every glance from him made her heartbeat lose sense.
"You're tense," he murmured.
"You're unbearable."
"And yet you're still here."
She looked up sharply.
Their faces were suddenly too close.
Then—
A phone rang.
Not Colt's.
Not anyone in the garden.
The sound came from Trinidad's gown pocket.
Confused, she reached in and pulled out a phone she had never seen before.
Black.
Unmarked.
Already ringing.
Everyone stared.
Colt's hand left her waist instantly.
"Answer it," he said.
She did.
A distorted voice filled the line.
"Enjoying your new life, Mrs. Clifford?"
Trinidad's blood ran cold.
The voice continued.
"Tell your husband… the game has started."
The call ended.
Silence crashed over the garden.
Slowly, Trinidad looked up at Colt.
For the first time since meeting him—
He looked shaken.