0014 ~ Elodie ~ “Say that to my face one more time.
I dare you, Elodie.” The challenge hung in the space between us, accompanied by that dark, slow smirk.
He looked absolutely terrifying in the dim lighting of the bedroom, a predator fully aware of his advantage.
The warning in his voice was clear: a quiet, underlying threat that promised immediate consequences if I pushed him an inch further.
Every instinct warned me to shut my mouth, to swallow my pride before I ended up completely outmatched.
Yet, despite the cold knot of fear tightening in my chest, my lips parted, and a desperate whisper escaped.
“Let go of me,” I murmured, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound firm.
Vincent didn’t blink.
He simply locked his dark eyes onto mine for a long, agonizing beat, letting the silence stretch until the tension became almost suffocating.
Then, slowly, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.
“That option isn’t on the table, Elodie,” he breathed.
The low, gravelly vibration of his voice, combined with the deliberate way he drawn out the syllables of my name, sent a violent shiver straight down my spine.
He pulled back just enough to look at me again, his gaze scanning my features with a twisted sense of satisfaction.
“You look so…vulnerable right now,” he observed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in my frantic breathing.
“I think I like it.” Finally, the suffocating pressure eased.
He stepped back, breaking the physical barrier and granting me a few inches of space.
The moment his hands left the wall, I instinctively clutched the black robe tighter around my frame, overlapping the fabric over my chest to shield myself from his intrusive gaze.
I needed a barrier, any kind of barrier, to reclaim a shred of privacy.
“Can you please put some clothes on?” I asked, my voice rising slightly as I gestured toward his uncovered torso.
“Your bare chest is making me incredibly uncomfortable.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, and the very instant they left my lips, a wave of regret washed over me.
Vincent paused, his dark eyebrows lifting in immediate amusement.
A low, mocking chuckle rumbled in his throat, his chest shifting as he laughed at my expense.
He looked thoroughly entertained by my discomfort, treating my distress like a thoroughly amusing joke.
I felt a hot flash of humiliation burn through my veins, but I forced myself to look away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply his mockery stung.
Without offering a single word of compliance, he reached for the waistband of his tailored suit trousers and casually stepped out of them, tossing them onto the nearby armchair.
He didn’t bother reaching for any of the clean clothes Margaret had brought.
Instead, he simply stood there in his dark briefs.
The thin fabric did absolutely nothing to conceal the prominent, heavy bulge beneath.
It was an incredibly explicit, imposing sight that made my heart leap into my throat.
My face flamed instantly.
I violently jerked my gaze away, staring fixedly at the far corner of the room, my palms growing damp with a sudden, anxious heat.
Vincent didn’t miss my frantic reaction.
Another quiet chuckle escaped him, dry and entirely unbothered.
“Like what you see, darling?” “Put something on,” I repeated through gritted teeth, keeping my eyes glued to the wall, refusing to grant him another glance.
“I don’t think I want to,” he replied smoothly.
“But Margaret went out of her way to bring us clean clothes to wear,” I argued, my voice tight with mounting frustration.
“The least you could do is use them.” “I’m perfectly fine just like this,” he said.
I heard the soft rustle of his footsteps moving across the carpet, away from me.
Only then did I dare to lift my head and look in his direction.
A deep sense of dread settled in my stomach.
I was completely trapped in this room with him for the next several hours, and to make matters worse, I was going to be forced to look at his nearly naked frame for the remainder of the night.
For the first time in my life, I found myself desperately praying for dawn to break as quickly as humanly possible.
Vincent walked over to the sprawling king-sized bed and reached down, casually tossing the heavy duvet aside.
My brow furrowed into a deep frown.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.
He paused, looking up at me with an irritated scowl of his own.
“What does it look like I’m doing, Elodie?” “Aren’t you supposed to take the sofa or the floor?” I asked, gesturing toward the leather couch across the room, trying to keep my voice steady and demanding.
“While I take the bed?” To my utter exasperation, Vincent threw his head back and let out another sharp, mocking laugh.
It was a pattern I had noticed ever since he dragged me out of that damp warehouse—he had a habit of laughing at the most inappropriate, jarring moments, using his amusement as a weapon to off-balance me.
“You honestly expect me to sleep on the hard floor or a cramped sofa while you lounge up here like a pampered queen?” his voice dripped with pure sarcasm.
“Isn’t that exactly what a gentleman is supposed to do when faced with this kind of situation?” I shot back, attempting to sound entirely authoritative.
“Get one thing straight through your head, darling,” he murmured, his eyes darkening as he stepped onto the mattress.
“I am not a gentleman.
I have never been one, and I never will be.
Now, listen to me carefully.
You have exactly two choices here.
We either share this enormous bed, or you are more than welcome to claim the floor or the sofa for yourself.
The choice is entirely yours.” Without waiting a single second for my response, he stretched out across the mattress, pulling the thick duvet all the way up to his jawline.
He turned his back to me, settling onto his side and closing his eyes, dismissing me as if I were nothing more than an afterthought.
I stood frozen at the edge of the bed, glaring at his broad, uncovered shoulders.
What an absolute bastard.
“If you’re still standing there trying to make up your mind,” his muffled voice drifted across the space, his back still firmly turned toward me, “be a darling and switch off the bedside lamp.
I prefer to sleep when the room is pitch black.” A sudden wave of pure, unadulterated fury surged through me.
If I had a weapon in my hands right that second—a gun, a knife, anything—I would have gladly ended his life without a shred of hesitation.
But reality quickly doused the flames of my anger; I knew his sharp reflexes would have caught me before I could even raise my hand, and a failed attempt would only result in an even worse punishment for both me and Vicky.
I felt utterly defeated.
I was exhausted, consumed by sadness, and above all, completely furious.
Realizing I had no real leverage, I quietly moved toward the edge of the mattress.
I had no desire to spend the night tossing and turning on the narrow leather sofa, and the hardwood floor was entirely out of the question—it felt freezing cold despite the crackling fire burning in the hearth.
The bed was my only viable option, even if it meant sharing the space with a monster.
I slid under the covers on the absolute opposite edge of the mattress, leaving a wide gulf of empty space between us.
Reaching out with a trembling hand, I turned the switch on the lamp.
“Good girl,” Vincent murmured into the dark.
The light died, and an absolute, suffocating silence instantly rushed back into the room, the dense blackness enveloping everything in sight.
I lay there for what felt like hours, my eyes staring up at the invisible ceiling, my mind racing with a million terrifying thoughts.
Eventually, my exhaustion won the battle, and I drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep—a hollow escape brought on by none other than the devil himself.