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I rose and faced the shower stream, rubbing my face.

I couldn’t stay in here forever. Hiding.

Soon I would have to face another cold and distant day at Sebastian’s side.

At least he had stopped threatening to drag me in front of a priest.

In fact, he hadn’t said much of anything at all these past few weeks.

I thought about our exchange last night.

It had become our new ritual.

We would eat dinner in silence, the clink of silverware against fine china the only sound between us. The tension stretched across the long mahogany table.

Then he’d go into his office, and I’d go to my own makeshift office to work.

I’d taken over his study. The cozy one with the worn leather sofa where we’d eaten pasta together several lifetimes ago. It was so much more comfortable than the other cold museum-like rooms of his palazzo.

Then, when my eyes blurred and I was too tired to focus on work any longer, I would attempt to sneak up to my room.

The first night, I’d thought I was being clever. I’d slipped off my heels, padding barefoot across the cold terra-cotta tiles, holding my breath at each creak of the medieval palazzo.

But each time he heard me.

Every. Single. Time.

One night I even waited until three in the morning, certain he must have been asleep. The moment I touched the study doorknob, he spoke from the shadows.

“Going somewhere, cara mia?”

I’d frozen, my heart slamming against my ribs. “It’s three in the morning, Sebastian.”

“I’m aware.” He stepped into the dim light, still fully dressed, a glass of whiskey in his hand. “And yet here we both are.”

“Don’t you ever sleep?”

“Not when you’re awake.” He took a slow sip, watching me over the rim. “Not when you’re trying to slip away from me.”

“I’m going to my bedroom. Not escaping the country.”

“Tonight.” His voice dropped. “Tonight you’re going to your bedroom.”

I’d walked past him without another word, feeling his gaze burn into my back the entire way.

Now I no longer bothered with stealth.

The walk back to my room had become a twisted dance we performed nightly.

The hallways seemed to elongate as I walked them, the Renaissance paintings watching me with judging eyes. Centuries of Diamanti ancestors bearing witness to my captivity.

My heart skipped.

He controlled everything in this house.

His footsteps followed mine.

Not rushing, never rushing.