The kitchen glowed with late-afternoon gold, sunlight slicing through the tall windows to stripe the marble island in molten light. Garlic, lemon, and the crisp sizzle of salmon filled the air. I plated the pasta with care—creamy strands twined with flakes of perfectly seared fish, a scatter of dill, a whisper of parmesan—then carried the tray upstairs like an offering.
Lila sat on the edge of the bed in the soft cotton dress I'd slipped over her limp body earlier. The fabric clung to her curves, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal the faint red lines the silk scarves had left on her wrists. She looked fragile, spent, yet still impossibly beautiful—dark hair tumbling in loose waves, skin flushed from exhaustion, full breasts rising with each shallow breath. My cock stirred, but I forced it down. Not now.
"Hey, darling," I said, setting the tray on the nightstand. "Lunch is served."
She glanced at the bowl, then at me, wary. "You… cooked all this?"
"Salmon pasta, just like you wanted. Eat."
She took the fork with trembling fingers, twirled a bite, and brought it to her lips. I didn't touch my own food. I just watched—mesmerized by the way her mouth closed around the tines, the delicate slide of her throat when she swallowed, the faint flush returning to her cheeks. It was intimate in a way raw sex had never been. She was alive, real, here, and for the first time in days I wasn't devouring her. I was seeing her.
"This is good," she murmured after a few bites, voice stronger now.
"You're beautiful when you eat," I said, the words slipping out raw. "Every damn thing you do, Lila, it's like you were built to ruin me."
She paused, fork halfway to her mouth, and met my eyes. No defiance, no plea—just a flicker of something unreadable. "Elias… why do you care? After everything."
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. "Because you're not just a body to me. You're the first thing that ever made me feel. Before you, I was an empty shell. Now I'm alive—and it's because of you. Even if you hate me for it."
She looked down at her bowl, fingers tightening around the fork. "I don't… I don't know what I feel," she whispered. "You've taken everything. My control, my plans… me."
I reached out, then stopped myself. "I know," I said, voice low. "And I'm not sorry. But I want you strong again, Lila. Fight me, love me, hate me—whatever you choose. Just be *you*."
Silence settled, filled only by the soft clink of her fork. I finally picked up my own bowl and ate in tandem, the quiet between us heavy but not hostile—a fragile truce.
When she finished, she set the bowl aside. I stood to clear the plates, then paused, turning back to her.
"I know I'm not giving you time to breathe," I said, meeting her eyes. "That's why I'll keep my hands to myself for the rest of the day. You happy now?"
Lila looked at me for a long second, searching my face. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile curved her lips. She nodded.
*Good,* I thought, my chest tightening. *I really tormented this poor girl. But it's her fault for being this fucking desirable.*
I bent to gather the tray—and my gaze snagged on her body. The cotton dress hugged the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. One strap had slipped off her shoulder, revealing the faint bruise I'd left on her collarbone. Her thighs pressed together, the hem riding just high enough to tease. My cock twitched, hard and instant, the beast roaring back to life.
Lila noticed. Her smile vanished. "Elias, no!"
I straightened, tray forgotten, a slow, wicked grin spreading across my face. In two strides, I was on her, my hands cupping her face as I kissed her deeply—slow, consuming, my tongue sliding against hers in a wet, hungry dance. She gasped into my mouth, her hands gripping my shirt, half-pushing, half-clinging. The taste of her—pasta, lemon, *her*—ignited me, my restraint crumbling like ash.
**DING-DONG.**
The doorbell's sharp chime sliced through the room, startling us both. I froze, lips still brushing hers, my heart hammering. Lila's eyes widened, her breath hitching against my mouth. The mansion, sealed and silent for all this time, had been breached by the outside world.