Page 20 of Gilded in Blood

I give him a puzzled look. “Yes. Where else would I run?”

His expression hardens. “Hell no.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

“I thought I already made myself clear. No leaving the building.” He folds his arms across that impressive chest. The movement makes the towel dip dangerously lower on his hips. “I didn’t bring you back to safety just so you could run around the city like an easy target. Until the threat is resolved, you’re under house arrest.”

I stare at him for a beat, trying to decide whether he's joking. Apparently, he isn't. “You can’t be serious. I need to go outside. I can’t just stay trapped in here.” I let out a slow breath. “I understand there's a threat,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “I'm not pretending there isn't. But staying locked inside twenty-four hours a day isn't exactly healthy either.”

“It keeps you alive.”

“It also keeps me trapped.”

“You're alive to complain about it.”

I fold my arms. “I've lived on my own for the last two years. I know how to be aware of my surroundings. I'm not suggesting I spend hours sightseeing. I'm talking about a thirty-minute run around the block.”

“No.”

“You could come with me.”

“No.”

“You're armed.”

“No.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “This isn't about me wanting to rebel. I need fresh air. I need sunlight. I need to feel like my life hasn't completely stopped.”

For the briefest second, something flickers across his face. Then it's gone.

“Run in the gym downstairs,” he says. “I already told you. The second elevator goes straight there. Use it.”

I study him, hoping to find even the slightest crack in that infuriatingly stoic expression. Nothing.

I exhale through my nose. “Fine,” I snap, spinning on my heel and storming back toward my room.

After a while of seething over Ilya’s ridiculous “house arrest” rule, I decide I’m not going to let him ruin my entire day. I head to the upstairs rooftop area instead, where the pool is, and put myself through a solid workout.

Bodyweight exercises, squats, planks, and some kickboxing combinations I learned back home with my sister. The morning sun feels good on my skin, and the physical exertion helps burn off some of the frustration.

By the time I’m done with my workout, I’m sweaty and buzzing with energy. I head back inside to change into my bikini, then return to the pool.

After showering off, I ease myself in with a contented sigh, letting the heat from my workout melt away as I swim a few slow laps. By the time I climb out, water streaming down my body, I reach for the towel I could've sworn I'd brought with me.

Great.

I pad back through the glass doors into the apartment, hair damp and sticking to my neck. As I step into the hallway, I hear Ilya’s low voice coming from his bedroom. He’s on the phone, speaking quietly, but there’s something off about his voice, it’s almost tense.

I slow down, curiosity getting the better of me. I creep a little closer to the doorway, trying to catch what he’s saying.

“…still contained. No, he isn’t going to be a problem. They don’t suspect a thing⁠—”

He goes silent for a moment, like he’s listening to whoever is on the other line. I press closer, hoping to catch something, and then the door suddenly swings open.

I lose my balance in my attempt to step back quickly and stumble forward, nearly falling right into the room. I catch myself on the doorframe at the last second.

Ilya stands there, phone still in his hand, staring down at me with those sharp steel-gray eyes. Did he know I was eavesdropping?