I didn't wait for the maid to unlock my door. I picked the lock with a shard of a broken hair clip I'd hidden in the mattress—a little reminder to myself that I was still Valentina the Thief, even if I was wearing silk.
I didn't hide. I walked straight into the dining room.
Kyle was at the head of the table, his charcoal suit jacket draped over his chair, looking like the king of the world. Elena was seated to his right, wearing one of his white dress shirts and nothing else, looking smug as she sipped an espresso.
"Good morning," I said, my voice as sharp as a razor as I pulled out the chair directly opposite Kyle. "I hope the coffee is stronger than the performance last night. The walls in this place are thinner than Elena's dress."
Elena choked on her drink, her face turning a blotchy red. Kyle didn't flinch. He slowly lowered his newspaper, his eyes like two chips of flint.
"You weren't invited to breakfast, Valentina," he said, his voice dropping into that dangerous, low register. "Go back to your room before I lose my patience."
"Lose it," I challenged, leaning forward. "What are you going to do? Shoot me? You've already tried that, remember? Or rather, I took the risk so you wouldn't have to."
I reached for the serving platter in the middle of the table, but Kyle's hand shot out. He caught my wrist in mid-air. His grip was electric—hot, bruising, and heavy with the tension that had been building for a week.
"You think you're untouchable because you stayed at the docks," he hissed, his thumb digging into the soft skin of my inner wrist. "You think that gives you a seat at my table. It doesn't. You're a debt, Val. And right now, your interest is rising."
"Then collect," I dared him, my breath hitching as I refused to pull away. I leaned closer, my chest nearly touching the table. "You're so arrogant, Kyle. You bring this woman here to prove you don't care, but look at you. Your pulse is racing under my thumb. You're more obsessed with me than you are with her."
Elena slammed her cup down. "Kyle, are you going to let this... servant talk to you like that?"
Kyle didn't look at Elena. He didn't even acknowledge she existed. His entire world had shrunk down to the girl with the loud mouth sitting across from him.
He stood up, never letting go of my wrist, and hauled me out of my chair. I stumbled, my body slamming into his. The heat coming off him was suffocating. He smelled like expensive cologne and the faint, metallic scent of the hospital he'd just left.
"Elena, leave," Kyle commanded, his voice shaking with a suppressed rage that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with hunger.
"But Kyle—"
"Now!" he roared.
The girl scrambled out of the room, her heels clicking frantically on the marble.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to drown in. Kyle didn't let go. He spun me around and pinned me against the long dinning table. He leaned in, his body crushing mine, his hands coming up to frame my face. His palms were rough, marking my skin, forcing me to look at him.
"You think you know me?" he rasped, his lips inches from mine. "You think you can play with me because you saw me bleed? You're nothing but a distraction I'm trying to burn out of my system."
"Then burn it," I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs. I reached up, my fingers digging into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. I didn't love him—I didn't even like him—but the power struggle between us was a drug. "Touch me and prove it. Prove I'm just an asset. Prove you can look at me and feel nothing."
Kyle let out a low, animalistic growl. His hand slid from my face down to my throat, his fingers wrapping around the diamond collar, using it to tilt my head back. He didn't kiss me. He pressed his forehead against mine, his breath hot and ragged.
"I could break you in a heartbeat, Val," he whispered, his other hand sliding down my side, his grip so tight it would leave bruises. "I could make you beg to stay in this cage."
"Try it," I defied him, my voice trembling but my eyes fierce. "You're too scared to even try, because you know that if you touch me, you're the one who's never going to be free again."
His hand tightened on my waist, his fingers digging into my hip bone as he pulled me flush against the hard line of his body. For a long, agonizing second, I thought he was going to shatter the "no love" rule right there on the table. The tension was a physical weight, a dark, heavy thing that made the air in the room vanish.
Then, with a violent shove, he pushed himself away.
He stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with a mix of hate and desire. He straightened his shirt, his mask of arrogance snapping back into place like a visor.
"Get out," he said, his voice cold and clinical again. "The car is taking you to the tailor. You're going to be fitted for the gala tonight. And Val? If you speak to me like that in front of a guest again, I won't use my hands. I'll use the basement."
I stood my ground, my skin still tingling where he'd touched me, my heart a frantic mess. I smoothed my dress and gave him a smirk that I knew would haunt him all day.
"Fine. But Kyle? You might want to fix your shirt. Your heart is beating so hard I can see it through the silk."
I walked out of the room without looking back, leaving the great Kyle Vanguard standing alone in the ruins of his breakfast.