The Prisoner of Silk: 2. Silk and the Dinner Test

The didn’t sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes, she heard his voice: tomorrow, the game begins.

The silk sheets tangled around her restless legs, the scent of him still clinging faintly to the air. Power. Control. Possession.

When dawn came, it spilled across the glass walls in a flood of gold. The city below stirred awake, but she was no freer for it. The penthouse felt more like a gilded cage with every passing hour.

A sound startled her—the click of the lock. She sat up instantly, clutching the sheet to her chest. He entered, not in last night’s suit but in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled back to reveal strong forearms, dark trousers tailored to perfection. Even casual, he looked like a man who never surrendered control.

In his hands, a long box wrapped in black silk.

Her heart pounded. “What’s that?”

“Clothes,” he said. “For you.”

“I don’t need your—”

“Clothes,” he repeated, setting the box on the bed. “Or would you pre