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“Oh, come on. You do this every year. It’s just dinner,” Naomi complained and looked at me. “Bring Sutton, and you’ll have a buffer.”

Manic actually groaned, turning his attention to me before sweeping back to Naomi. “Ronan wouldn’t like that.”

She scoffed, folding her arms. “Since when do you care about what he likes? Just tell him you keep your enemies closer—or in her case, your captive. It’s just one night.” She glanced at me again. “What do you say?”

I shrugged. “I could use some dinner. If he doesn’t go, I’m sure I could find a way to come by myself…”

I let the insinuation of Axell bringing me hang in the air, and Manic narrowed his eyes. Truthfully, escaping the penthouse for another day sounded too good to pass up, even if it was at the mansion. Manic studied me for a long, quiet moment, and I knew I had just added another punishment to my list. Then something sparked in his eyes, and my stomach hit the floor.

“You know what,” Manic faced Naomi with a smile, though his eyes darted up the staircase behind her, “that sounds like a great idea.”

A wide grin lit up Naomi’s face, her eyes shifting between the two of us as if we’d just made her entire week. Another deep flush settled in my face as I tried to decipher why he’d agreed just now.

“Perfect!” Naomi clapped again. “Then we'll see you both tomorrow at six.” She leaned in and planted a kiss on my cheek. “Don’t be late.”

We exited precisely two seconds later, and Manic’s low, devious chuckle floated by on a breeze. A shudder ran down my spine—a shudder for every step down the mansion stairs until we reached the car. He opened my door, his hand lingering on the frame as he stared down at me with a dark glint in his eyes.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“Add it to my list of reasons to punish me,” I said with a cool smile, then shrugged. “It’s just family dinner, what could possibly go wrong?”

28

SUTTON

After telling Naomi we would attend her birthday, Manic had spent the majority of the night in his workspace while I showered and settled in his room.

The pacing of his steps had thudded against the ceiling, and I’d wondered what had him so riled up. He hadn’t said it outright, so I just assumed he was angry with me for inserting myself. When he finally came to bed, it was nearly two in the morning.

And, like every other day, he’d risen before the sun did.

Once sunrise breathed through the clouds, I fully expected Manic to refuse our appearance at the mansion tonight, so when he said we’d actually be going, it came as a shock. I didn’t question it, just nodded and sipped my coffee.

I sighed now, shaking off this morning, and focused on securing my earring. My reflection stared back, and for a moment, I hardly recognized myself.

My dark hair was down and wavy, cascading past my shoulders and breasts until it hit my waist. The red stain on my lips was a stark contrast to my hazel eyes, which appeared bright and rested for once. Nothing like the haunted captive from weeks ago.

I ran my hands over my hips, the fabric soft beneath my touch.

Like yesterday, Manic had picked my outfit. Even though I walked in the same thigh-high boots, I wore a different dress—a maroon long-sleeved, lacy number made of velvet with a dash of desire. I hated to admit it, but he had taste. I wondered where he’d gotten it.

The thunder of his approaching steps made my pulse quicken, and our eyes collided in the bathroom mirror, reminding me of the confrontation I needed to have. I knew I couldn’t avoid it forever, but every time I searched for the words, they dissolved into thin air. It was eating at me, and my skin buzzed every time he entered a room.

“What?” he asked, extending my purse.

I faced him and leaned against the vanity, taking my bag from him. His hair was mussed, falling to his temples, and his dark dress shirt stretched tight across his muscled chest. Two buttons were undone, revealing a sliver of smooth, golden skin. He looked as comfortable in his fine clothes as he did in his own body. But instead of asking him what I knew I should, I decided for the safer option.

“Do you have hobbies?”

His brows furrowed. “I—what?”

“Hobbies. You know, things you do for fun?” I said, though a smile crept up my mouth. He looked puzzled. “Besides pissing me off, there must be something else you enjoy.”

His mouth quirked. “Does fucking you count?”

My face flamed as I said, “No.”

“Then no,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I don’t really have time for hobbies.”