"Upstairs."

Alek didn't wait for the staff to disperse. He turned and walked toward the grand staircase.

Eva held the bloody towel in one hand, the ruined club in the other. She followed him. She had no choice.

In the master bedroom, Alek stripped off his jacket and let it drop to the floor. It landed with a heavy, wet thud.

"Bath," he muttered. He walked to the liquor cabinet and poured a drink, his hands shaking slightly.

Eva went into the bathroom. She set the club down in the corner. She turned on the water, her mind racing.

11:30 PM.

She needed to get out.

She tested the water temperature. Hot. Scalding. Just how he liked it.

Alek entered the bathroom. He had removed his shirt. His chest was heaving.

He walked up behind her.

Eva froze as his arms circled her waist. He was heavy, leaning on her.

He buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply.

"Quiet," he mumbled against her skin. "Everything is so loud. But you... you are quiet."

His hands moved up. His thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts through the rough fabric of her uniform.

Eva went rigid. She grabbed the edge of the marble tub.

This was different. He wasn't just angry. He was needy. And that was more dangerous.

His fingers fumbled with the top button of her dress.

"No," she mouthed.

She spun around. She placed her hands on his bare chest and pushed. Hard.

Alek stumbled back. His hip hit the sink.

He looked at her, blinking. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by a dark, wounded anger.

He grabbed her hand and slammed it against his heart.

"Feel that?" he hissed. "You think you're better than me? You're just payment, Eva. A receipt."

Eva shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

Alek lunged.

He crushed his mouth against hers. He tasted of whiskey and iron.

It wasn't a kiss. It was an assault.

Eva panicked. Instinct took over.

She bit down. Hard.

She felt the skin of his lip burst.

Alek jerked back with a grunt of pain. He brought his hand to his mouth. When he pulled it away, his fingers were red.

He stared at the blood on his hand. Then he looked at her.

He smiled.

It was a terrifying, broken smile.

"Finally," he whispered. "A reaction."

Eva didn't wait. She bolted.

She ran out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and into the hall.

"Eva!" Alek roared behind her.

She didn't run toward the staff quarters. She ran toward the west wing. Toward the terrace.

She burst through the side door.

The storm had broken. Rain lashed against her face, cold and violent.

She ran into the night.

Eva slipped on the wet stone. Her knee hit the pavement, skinning it raw.

She scrambled up, ignoring the sting. The rain was blinding.

A figure loomed in the darkness ahead. A shadow holding a black umbrella.

Eva gasped, ready to turn back.

"This way, Miss Bowen."

The voice was cool, precise.

Emory.

Eva ran to him. She ducked under the large black umbrella. The relief was instantaneous.

"Where is she?!"

Alek's voice cut through the rain.

He appeared from the doorway, soaked to the bone. Blood from his lip was running down his chin, mixing with the rain.

He saw them. He stopped.

"Get away from her, Emory," Alek snarled.

Emory didn't flinch. He adjusted his glasses with one finger.

"Sir," Emory said, his voice calm, carrying effortlessly over the wind. "If you touch her now, the board meeting tomorrow will be... complicated."

Alek wiped rain from his eyes. "What?"

"Arvo is in custody," Emory said quickly. "We need a narrative. If Miss Bowen appears bruised or beaten, the press will link it to your temper. We need her to be the negligent staff member who caused an accident. Not a victim."

Alek paused. The logic pierced through his drunken rage. He was a businessman first, a monster second.

He looked at Eva, shivering under the umbrella.

"She bit me," Alek said, touching his lip.

"And she will be punished," Emory said smoothy. "I suggest she stands guard here. In the rain. To reflect on her... insubordination."

Alek stared at Eva. His chest heaved.

"Fine," he spat. "All night. If she moves, fire her. Then kill her."

Alek turned and stomped back inside.

Emory waited until the door clicked shut.

He didn't move. He kept his posture rigid, in case anyone was watching from the windows.

"Did he hurt you?" Emory asked. His voice had dropped an octave. It was soft.

Eva shook her head, her teeth chattering.

Emory turned his back to the house. He handed the umbrella to Eva.

"Take it."

Eva tried to push it back. He would get soaked.

Emory grabbed her hand. His fingers were cold, but his grip was reassuring.

"Take it," he insisted. "Consider it a message. He asked me to ensure you were safe until he arrived."

Eva froze.

He?

Emory stepped back into the rain, letting the water soak his expensive suit instantly. He checked the camera mounted on the wall above them.

"Stay in the blind spot," he whispered. "Pretend you are miserable."

Eva held the umbrella. She looked at Emory.

Who sent it?

Emory wiped water from his face. He looked at her, his eyes serious behind the wet lenses.

"Wait."