She arrived back at the penthouse in the late evening, the place unusually quiet, shadows stretching long across the sleek floor.
Arms aching, she lugged in her shopping bags—luxury pieces in glossy packaging—and the two suitcases she'd retrieved from her apartment, packed with everything she would need to move in. The suitcases landed with a soft thud on the floor, while the shopping bags spilled across the bed like a decadent display of her new life.
She couldn't wait to wear them all. Just the thought made her lips curve in anticipation. Without wasting time, she slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower. When she emerged, skin still faintly flushed and hair towel-dried, she reached for a dress—a dark shade of green, elegant but comfortable, perfect for travel. The fabric skimmed over her curves as if it had been made for her.
She took her time, curling her hair into soft waves, brushing on the new makeup she'd bought—light foundation, a whisper of blush, mascara to deepen her gaze. She spritzed on perfume, the scent clinging delicately to her skin. Finally, she tinted her lips a soft pink and smiled at the woman staring back at her in the mirror—polished, poised, dangerous in her own quiet way.
"I hope you're all ready for me, especially you, father." she murmured to her reflection.
Her chest tightened at the thought of her late mother's share of the inheritance. She knew little about business, but with someone like Zade—powerful, connected, and currently intent on winning her over—she suspected help would come easily.
Crossing to the wide windows, she drew the curtains aside and let the fading sunlight pour in, the view of nature stretching endlessly before her. The peace didn't last. A faint click broke the silence, followed by the smooth, measured sound of the door opening.
Zade stepped inside, his tall frame filling the doorway with a presence that seemed to pull all the air out of the room. His gaze slid over the bed littered with designer clothes, then to the suitcases lying carelessly on the floor. When his eyes finally found hers, her breath stalled.
She didnt know if she would ever get used to the way he looked at her—like she was a meal he intended to savor slowly, and nothing in the world would stop him. Tonight, that hunger was unmistakable.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't take you to bed right now and devour every inch of you."
The heat in his tone sent her pulse racing. She hesitated, mouth parting before the words finally slipped out.
"B… because it's not the right thing to do." Even to her own ears, it sounded more like a question than an answer.
A slow, dangerous smile tugged at his lips. "And how exactly is it not the right thing to do? You are my wife." The word my rolled off his tongue with a weight that sent a shiver down her spine.
He hadn't closed the space between them like he usually did, but her senses still roared to life, sharp and restless. She didn't know why her voice faltered, why it was suddenly so hard to think. Needing to break the thick, invisible thread between them, she chose to divert the conversation,
"When are we leaving?"
"Now." He pulled out his phone, fingers moving quickly over the screen.
"Alright, let me pack this up, then we can leave." She said softly.
His gaze lingered on her as she walked toward the bed littered with new clothes. "You don't have to. I'll have someone take care of it. Just grab whatever you personally need. I'll be waiting outside."
The door clicked shut behind him, and Halle released a quiet, shaky sigh. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she pressed her palms into the mattress, letting the silence settle. She wasn't just packing for a trip—she was stepping away from one life and into another. The thought alone was enough to twist her stomach with both dread and something that felt dangerously close to excitement.
She reached for her smaller suitcase, the one with her documents and personal things she had kept ready for emergencies, and tucked in a few more essentials. This was it—a new beginning. And she would be lying to herself if she claimed she wasn't scared… or uncertain of what lay ahead.
As they stepped outside, Halle rolled her suitcase along, Zade following a few steps behind, his gaze fixed on her. It wasn't particularly heavy, but when she reached the short flight of stairs leading to the parking area, she glanced over her shoulder at him, brows lifting.
"Not going to give me a hand?" she asked, her tone laced with challenge more than genuine need.
He smirked. "I will… if you ask nicely."
The stubborn streak in her flared. She wasn't about to hand him the satisfaction, not after how smug he'd been earlier. And he—ever the sadist when it came to her—simply watched her small struggles, making no move to help until they reached the car. Only then did he take the suitcase from her and load it into the trunk without a word.