0021 ~ Vincent ~ Leaving Elodie in the dimness of the corridor, I marched directly into the master suite’s bathroom and stepped under the shower.
The moment the piercingly cold water rained down onto my face, the underlying tension in my jaw finally began to loosen.
My mind immediately locked onto the chaos at the harbor.
The tactical execution of the ambush, the precision of the shooter—it didn’t align with a standard territory dispute.
Whoever had authorized that hit possessed significant resources and zero fear of reprisal.
I ran a hand through my wet hair, pushing the slick strands back from my forehead, but the moment I closed my eyes, the image of Elodie’s flushed face vividly replaced the strategy maps.
The vibrant crimson that crept across her cheeks whenever I pushed her buttons was undeniably captivating.
Wrapped in that oversized bathrobe, her eyes blazing with absolute defiance, she possessed a striking, unfiltered beauty.
It was an innocence that sat entirely at odds with the darkness of this house, an innocence that provoked a dangerous urge to shatter her defenses completely.
I let out a harsh breath, deliberately pushing the intrusive thoughts from my mind.
She was a liability, a captive meant to serve a single purpose, and I thoroughly disliked the realization that she was starting to occupy my thoughts.
Stepping out of the stall, I snatched a crisp towel to dry off before throwing on a classic dark vintage shirt and tailored khaki trousers.
When I entered the grand dining hall, the long mahogany table was largely empty.
Elodie was noticeably absent.
The only occupant was Logan, who sat positioned several chairs down from the head of the table.
To my surprise, a fraction of the hollow pallor had left his skin, replaced by a faint touch of color, though the exhausted purple shadows beneath his grey eyes remained.
As I assumed my position at the head of the table, he lifted his gaze, offering me a weary, heavily sedated look.
“Hungry…I’m hungry, Vincent,” he mumbled, his voice barely carrying across the room.
I turned my head toward the doorway where Anne was waiting.
“Begin the service.” She dipped into a quick, submissive bow and disappeared, returning a minute later with a tray of steaming soup and roasted vegetables.
“From this moment forward, you will provide my brother exclusively with plastic cutlery,” I instructed Anne, my voice cold as I kept my eyes fixed on Logan.
“He demonstrated earlier today that he cannot be trusted around standard table settings.
See to it that no sharp metals are ever left within his reach.” “Right away, sir,” Anne murmured, bowing low before executing the change.
Once the adjusted setting was laid out, Logan picked up the plastic utensil with a slow, trembling hand.
He lowered his head, quietly scooping the broth from his bowl, completely severing any further eye contact with me.
It was his standard defense mechanism—ignoring my existence entirely whenever he couldn’t handle the reality of his situation.
I took a few measured bites of my own meal before setting my spoon down against the porcelain, the silence stretching too thin.
“Where is Elodie?
She was given an explicit timeframe to be present for dinner.” “I believe Mrs.
Lockwood is still confined to her quarters, sir—” “Then go bring her down here immediately,” I snapped, cutting Anne off mid-sentence.
“I will do so right now, sir,” she replied frantically, turning on her heel and rushing out of the dining hall to retrieve my stubborn guest.
I shifted my focus back to my brother, who remained entirely undisturbed by the outburst, silently consuming his broth as if he were the only person in the room.
I looked down at my right hand, flexing my fingers beneath the tight white gauze.
The laceration Logan had delivered with the stolen scalpel throbbed with a dull, rhythmic heat.
I traced the edge of the bandage, a quiet sigh escaping my lips.
When Anne returned a few minutes later, she was alone, her expression a mix of deep anxiety and confusion.
“Where is she?” I demanded, my tone dropping into a dangerous register.
“Mr.
Vincent, I attempted to convey your instructions,” Anne stammered softly, her hands shaking slightly against her apron.
“But she refused to respond to my presence.
She wouldn’t speak, she wouldn’t move…it was as though I didn’t even exist in her sight.” “Return to that room,” I barked, the sudden volume of my voice causing Anne to flinch violently.
“And inform her that if she does not bring her feet down to this dining hall this exact instant, I am going to personally march upstairs and drag her down myself!” “Yes, sir!” she whispered, scurrying out of the room to deliver the ultimatum.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, a dark irritation settling into my chest.
I glanced at Logan, but he remained locked in his own world, entirely unbothered by the storm brewing around him.
Logan wasn’t my concern tonight; my concern was the woman who thought she could openly defy a direct command in my household.
“So, she actually believes she has the leverage to hide in her room,” I muttered to myself, a bitter scoff escaping my lips.
When the dining room doors opened for the third time, Anne’s face told me everything I needed to know before she even spoke.
“Well?
Is she behind you?” “Mr.
Vincent, I truly tried, but she remains entirely unyielding—” That was all the confirmation I required.
The irritation flared into a focused, freezing anger.
I pushed my chair back, the heavy wood scraping loudly against the marble floor as I stood up.
“Keep your eyes on him,” I murmured, casting a sharp glance toward Logan.
Anne nodded instantly, bowing her head as I bypassed her and strode out of the hall.
I mounted the grand staircase two steps at a time, my boots striking the stone with an intentional, heavy rhythm.
When I reached the doors of the master suite, I grabbed the brass handle and twisted.
It didn’t budge.
The little fool had actually locked it because she knew I would come.
“Elodie!” I bellowed, slamming the flat of my palm against the heavy oak paneling.
“I know exactly what you’re doing in there.
Open this door this absolute instant!” I paused, listening intently for any sound of movement from the other side, but the room remained dead silent.
“Open the damn door!” I roared, my patience entirely spent.
Still, nothing but silence answered.
“Gareth!
Get up here!” As if appearing from the very shadows of the corridor, the butler materialized at the end of the hall, moving with a hurried, tense stride.
“Sir!
I am here.” “You possess the master ring for the estate doors, correct?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet.
“Yes, sir, I have the—” “Excellent.
Unlock it now.” Gareth nodded obediently, pulling the heavy brass ring from his jacket.
But before the metal could even slide into the keyhole, the mechanism clicked, and the door swung open.
Elodie stood in the threshold, her eyes blazing with a, murderous fury as she glared directly into my chest.
I glanced over her head at Gareth.
“Leave us.” He bowed low and vanished down the corridor without a sound.
“I distinctly recall instructing you to be downstairs for dinner five minutes ago,” I said, ignoring the daggers she was throwing with her eyes as I noted she had changed into a simple sweater and denim.
“And I distinctly recall informing you that I wasn’t the least bit hungry,” she countered, perfectly mimicking the icy, authoritative cadence I used with her.
“This is my domain, Elodie, which means you conform to my schedule and my parameters,” I said, extending my arm toward the staircase.
“Now, take your feet downstairs and join the table.” “No,” she said sharply, her chin lifting in defiance.
“I see,” I murmured, a cold smirk beginning to tug at the corner of my lips as I stepped into her personal space.
“If you want to make this easy on yourself, you comply.
But if you prefer to test my boundaries, I am more than willing to play along.” “I already told you, I am not hungry!” she yelled, her voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
“I would honestly rather starve to death in this room than sit across from a literal devil incarnate!” “The hard way it is, then,” I muttered.
Before she could even register the movement, I lunged forward, catching her around the waist and hoisting her over my shoulder in one fluid, effortless motion.
“You absolute bastard!
Put me down right now!” she screamed, her fists hammering furiously against my back as I turned and marched toward the stairs.
The more she thrashed and twisted, the tighter I locked my forearm across the back of her thighs, completely pinning her in place as I navigated the steps.
I carried her straight into the dining hall, where Luca was now standing near the sideboard.
Without breaking stride, I looked over at him.
“Luca, fetch me a length of secure nylon rope.” He nodded instantly, exiting toward the utility wings.
“I despise you!
You are an absolute monster!” Elodie continued to shriek, her voice raw with a mixture of terror and fury.
“You are keeping me locked in this place against my will!” I ignored every syllable, walking over to the empty chair directly to the right of my position and dropping her into the seat.
Before she could bolt, Luca returned, handing me the cord.
I passed it back to him, pointing at her wrists and ankles.
“Secure her to the frame.” Anne stood near the kitchen doors, her face turning pale with horror.
“Mr.
Vincent…please, is…is this level of severity truly necessary?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
I turned my head slowly, fixing her with a gaze so lethal, so entirely devoid of warmth, that the air seemed to leave her lungs.
She swallowed her words, bowing her head in terrified silence.
“Secured, boss,” Luca reported, stepping back to take his position directly behind Elodie’s chair.
“Perfect,” I said, a dark smile touching my lips.
For the first time all evening, Logan actually ceased his eating, lifting his head to blink at the display in sheer confusion.
Elodie, completely bound to the heavy mahogany chair, continued to strain against the knots, the cords digging into her skin.
“The more energy you expend fighting those restraints, darling, the more certain it is that you aren’t going anywhere,” I told her, leaning against the edge of the table.
“Let me go this instant!” she screamed.
I turned back to the housekeeper, my expression flat.
“Bring her portion.” Anne nodded frantically, disappearing into the kitchens and returning a moment later with a loaded tray.
“Hand it to me,” I commanded.
Taking the silver plate, I settled into my own chair, pulling it close to hers.
I picked up the silver spoon, scooping up a portion of the mashed potatoes and rich gravy, and held it directly in front of her lips.
“Open your mouth.” Elodie didn’t flinch.
She simply sat frozen, her chest heaving with rage as she stared at me with pure venom.
“If you refuse to open it voluntarily, I will ensure it opens by force,” I muttered, my brow furrowing as the silence stretched.
She held my gaze for three agonizing seconds before slowly parting her lips.
I slid the spoon inside, depositing the food.
“See?
That wasn’t such an impossible task, was it?” I noted dryly, lowering the utensil back to the plate to gather another portion.
Before I could lift the spoon, Elodie leaned forward with a sudden, violent jerk and spat the entire mouthful directly across my face.
Luca instantly moved forward, his hand reaching for his belt, but I sharply raised my left hand, freezing him in his tracks.
“Stay back.” The thick, warm food smeared down my cheek and jawline.
I didn’t yell.
I didn’t move.
Slowly, I reached down, took the linen napkin from the silver tray, and began wiping the fluid from my skin with meticulous, calm deliberation.
Once my face was clean, I tossed the soiled linen back onto the porcelain and locked my eyes onto hers.
“You are going to deeply regret choosing to do that, Elodie,” I said, my voice dropping into a register that was entirely quiet, yet laced with a promise of absolute ruin.
Elodie stared back at me, the initial spark of anger in her eyes suddenly faltering, replaced by a cold, encroaching fear as my smirk returned.