Celine's POV
Madison, as the nanny was called, left me, leaving me lost in thought. I didn't want to go to his room, but either way, he will make sure that happens.
Defying him will surely come with consequences, and I didn't want that on my first appearance. If I wanted to escape successfully, I would have to pretend long enough to be obedient.
It was a long time until evening, and I tried to shut my eyes and rest for a while, but I couldn't sleep. I could only think about the events that had occurred and what my future would be like.
But one thing was for sure: I would find my escape someday, and I would visit the Klein family with vengeance.
I rose slowly and headed to the shower, allowing the shower to wash down my thoughts. I went to the dresser and looked in the mirror.
For the first time in a long time, my reflection stared back at me. My face was pale, my eyes hollow, my lips slightly broken. I didn't recognize her.
The door creaked softly, and Madison peered inside. "You should hurry, child," she said gently, wearing a smile."Mr Cassian does not wait for anyone."
I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, ma."
The dress she had given me lay folded neatly on the bed, dark blue satin, simple but elegant. The kind of dress that didn't belong to someone like me.
As I slipped it on, the fabric felt foreign against my skin, too smooth, too expensive. I almost laughed at the absurdity of it, dressing up to dine with a man who saw me as a transaction.
But I still combed my hair with trembling fingers and tied it back. If Cassian wanted to see what he had bought, I would at least meet him, looking good.
When I opened the door, the sight froze me.
Two guards stood stationed at opposite corners of the hallway. Both tall, armed, and still as robot statutes. Their eyes didn't meet mine. "It will be very hard for me to escape this mansion," I muttered under my breath.
My heart sank. I briefly thought about running, about testing their reflexes, but the idea evaporated just as quickly as it had formed.
Then another thought came into my mind. I have to get Mr Cassian to love me.
If he loves me or gets obsessed with me, I might gain partial freedom.
"Miss," one of them said, his tone clipped. "Mr Cassian is waiting."
I followed in silence.
The mansion's corridors stretched endlessly, echoing with our footsteps.
The air was heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and polished wood. Expensive paintings lined the walls, portraits of stern men and women.
I guessed that they were pioneers of the mafia business.
When we stopped before a large double door, one of the guards opened it and gestured for me to enter. "Inside."
I stepped through the door, and the door closed behind me with a soft but final click.
My heart hammered against my chest as I took slow but steady steps.
Cassian's room was vast. I haven't seen a room as big as his. It was twice as big as the big room he had designated for me.
Warm light spilt from a chandelier overhead, glinting off the dark glass of the wine bottles lined against the far wall.
A long table stretched across the center, set for two, with silver cutlery, making the table beautiful. White porcelain was used to serve the food; everything was nearly arranged in a grandiose style.
Everything about the setting screamed old money, and I couldn't help noticing it.
I felt like I didn't belong here; of course, I never belonged here, but I didn't show it.
Cassian stood at the window, his back to me, just the way he was in the other chamber, just that this time he was standing.
His suit jacket was still on, one hand in his pocket. He turned when he heard the door shut.
"Come, sit and eat with me," he said, waving his hand towards my direction, and briskly walking to take a seat.
It wasn't an invitation. It was a command, I felt it, and I didn't dare disobey him, at least not yet.
I hesitated, but my body moved on instinct. I sat opposite him. The scent of roasted meat and herbs filled the air.
I was hungry, but anxious at the same time, so it seemed as if I had lost my appetite.
I didn't want him to see me as weak, so I wouldn't let him notice any signs.
For the first few moments, silence stretched between us. Only the soft clinking of his utensils as he began to eat broke the stillness.
I felt his gaze linger on me, slow and deliberate.
My shoulders tensed. The way his eyes lingered on me made my skin prickle.
"Stop staring at me that way," I blurted before I could stop myself. "It makes me uncomfortable."
His knife paused midair. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You're brave," he said evenly. "Not many people speak to me like that."
"Maybe they are smarter than I am," I responded, concentrating more on my food, even though I couldn't savor the taste; I ate it anxiously.
He leaned back, studying me. "Or maybe they've learned that fear keeps them alive."
"Then I guess I'll have to learn it the hard way," I responded.
Something flickered in his eyes, something like amusement or curiosity, but it vanished quickly. He returned to his meal, calm as ever.
"You shouldn't waste your courage," he said after a while. "This isn't a place for defiance."
"And what is it, then?" I asked quietly. "A prison? A trade fair, A place where you trade people for money?
His gaze hardened, but he didn't answer right away. He set his fork down, folding his hands on the table. "You think you're the first? That you're special?"
"No," I said. "I just think I don't belong here."
Even as I said the words, I was still scared. I wondered how many girls have been in my position.
He tilted his head slightly. "You belong where I say you do, Celine. That's the truth you'll have to accept."
The way he said my name sent a chill down my spine and a sensation to my core that I hated to admit.
Mr Cassian was a handsome and powerful Mafia CEO; he was feared and wanted by almost all the ladies in Dalton.
I met his gaze anyway. "You can command my body," I said, my voice trembling despite me, "but you don't own my mind."
He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. "We'll see."
For a few moments, silence again. The tension between us was thick enough to feel.
I watched him eat with slow precision, every movement measured and deliberate. He wasn't like Mr Klein, who had been chaotic, unhinged.
Cassian's power stemmed from control, which made him far more dangerous.
After a while, he spoke again, softer this time. "You hate me?"
"I don't know you enough to hate you," I replied to him
His expression wasn't lenient, but he smiled faintly. "That's almost kind."
I was quiet for some time and then lifted my eyes to match his gaze.
He stood and walked toward the sideboard, pouring himself a glass of wine. His movements were unhurried, graceful in a way that unnerved me. He looked over his shoulder. "Do you want some?"
I shook my head.
He poured a second glass anyway and set it before me. "Drink," he said.
"I don't…" I tried to protest.
"It wasn't a question," he said firmly, watching my movement.
I stared at the dark liquid, then at him, my pulse quickening.