Professor Lowe was a fossil of a man who believed that tardiness was a moral failing.

"The Krebs cycle waits for no one," he droned, scribbling on the whiteboard.

Alivia sat in the middle row, trying to focus. But the back of her neck was prickling.

The door banged open.

Preston Lowe sauntered in. He was the Professor's son, a frat boy with too much hair gel and a reputation for not taking 'no' for an answer.

"Mr. Lowe," the Professor sighed. "Nice of you to join us."

"Traffic was a bitch," Preston muttered, sliding into the seat directly behind Alivia.

He leaned forward. Alivia could smell stale beer and expensive cologne.

"Nice hoodie," he whispered. "Hiding the bruises?"

Alivia gripped her pen. Ignore him.

"I heard your husband is a freak," Preston continued, his voice low and wet against her ear. "Does he even know how to use it? Or do you need a real man to show you?"

Alivia's pen snapped. Ink bled onto her fingers.

She shifted away, but Preston kicked the back of her chair.

"Don't be shy, sugar baby. We all know what you are. You're just a high-priced whore."

Alivia spun around, ready to scream, but Professor Lowe turned from the board.

"Miss Clemons? Is there a problem?"

"No, sir," Alivia gritted out.

Preston smirked. "She's just excited about biology, Dad."

Alivia turned back, her face burning. She felt dirty.

High above the city, Gideon's hand froze over a document.

He was listening. He had bugged her backpack. Not because he didn't trust her, but because he didn't trust the world with her.

He heard every word.

Whore.

The pencil in Gideon's hand snapped in two.

He hit the intercom. "Finn."

Finn appeared in the doorway three seconds later. "Yeah?"

"Preston Lowe. NYU. Senior."

"I know him. Dad's a professor. Kid's a waste of space."

"Cut it," Gideon said. His voice was devoid of emotion, which made it terrifying.

"Cut what?"

"Everything. His credit cards. His trust fund. And find out who funds Professor Lowe's research lab."

Finn typed on his tablet. "Uh, looks like a grant from the Blackburn Foundation."

"Cancel it."

Finn looked up. "Boss, that's a two-million-dollar grant. The university will flip."

"I don't care. Cancel it. And tell the Dean I want to donate a new library wing. On one condition."

"Which is?"

"Preston Lowe is expelled."

Finn whistled. "You're going nuclear over a frat boy?"

Gideon looked at the broken pencil on his desk.

"He made her feel unsafe. Nuclear is the only option."

Back in the classroom, Alivia was packing her bag. The bell had rung.

Preston stood up, blocking her path to the aisle.

"So, about that tutorial," he leered, reaching for her arm.

"Don't touch me," Alivia said.

"Come on, Liv. I can pay. Not as much as the monster, but-"

Suddenly, Preston's phone buzzed. Then it buzzed again. And again.

He pulled it out. "What the hell?"

He stared at the screen. "Card declined? Account frozen?"

He looked up, confused.

Alivia took the opportunity to shove past him.

"Move, Preston."

She walked out of the room, leaving him staring at his phone, his life crumbling around him, though he didn't know why yet.

The next morning, Alivia woke up to an invasion.

A rack of clothes was wheeled into her bedroom by a woman with a severe bob cut and a tape measure around her neck.

"Up, up!" the woman clapped. "Mr. Blackburn says the 'hobo chic' look is retired."

"Who are you?" Alivia rubbed her eyes.

"Sasha. I'm here to format your hard drive. Or in this case, your closet."

For two hours, Alivia was poked, prodded, and draped in fabric. The hoodies were bagged up. The jeans were replaced with tailored trousers and silk blouses.

When Sasha was done, Alivia looked in the full-length mirror.

She was wearing a cream-colored cashmere coat, a navy dress that hugged her waist, and boots that added three inches to her height. Her hair was blown out in soft waves. She wasn't hiding anymore.

She looked... powerful.

She walked out to the living room. Gideon was drinking coffee, reading the Wall Street Journal.

He lowered the paper. His eyes swept over her, starting at her boots and ending at her eyes. He didn't smile, but his pupils dilated.

"Acceptable," he said.

"I feel like a doll," Alivia tugged at the coat.

"You look like a queen," Gideon corrected. "Act like one."

When the Audi pulled up to campus, Alivia stepped out.

The reaction was immediate. Heads turned. Conversations stopped.

She was no longer the invisible girl in the hoodie. She was an enigma, wrapped in cashmere and mystery, and the entire quad seemed to hold its breath as she passed.

She walked across the quad, the cashmere coat billowing behind her.

"Well, well."

Preston Lowe stepped into her path. He looked disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Look at you," he spat. "Spending my money?"

"Get out of my way, Preston," Alivia said calmly.

"My dad lost his grant this morning," Preston shouted. "And my cards are dead. You did this!"

A crowd began to gather.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alivia said, stepping around him.

Preston grabbed her arm. Hard.

"Don't walk away from me, you bitch!" He yanked her back. "I want to see what's under that coat. Let's see what you're selling!"

He reached for the lapel of her coat.

Alivia froze.

Before his fingers could touch the cashmere, a hand clamped onto Preston's wrist.

It wasn't Gideon. It was Silas.

The driver had moved with impossible speed. He twisted Preston's wrist.

Snap.

Preston screamed, dropping to his knees.

"Touch Mrs. Blackburn again," Silas said, his voice like grinding gravel, "and you will lose the hand."

The crowd gasped. Mrs. Blackburn.

Silas released Preston, who curled into a ball on the grass, cradling his wrist.

Silas straightened his suit jacket and turned to Alivia. He bowed slightly.

"Are you unharmed, Ma'am?"

Alivia looked at the groaning boy on the ground, then at the terrified faces of the students around her.

"I'm fine, Silas," she said. Her voice didn't shake.

"Good. The car is waiting."

Alivia walked to the car, leaving Preston in the dirt. She didn't look back.

The penthouse was quiet when she returned.

Gideon was sitting on the sofa, his laptop open. He didn't look up as she entered.

"Did Silas break it?" he asked.

"Just sprained, I think," Alivia said, taking off her coat.

"Pity."

Alivia walked over to him. "You did it, didn't you? The grant. The cards."

Gideon closed the laptop and looked at her. "He touched you."

"So you ruined his life?"

"I removed an obstacle. There is a difference."

Alivia looked at him. This man was ruthless. He destroyed people with a phone call.

And he did it for her.

She sat down next to him. "Thank you."

Gideon reached out and pulled her into his lap. It was a fluid motion, possessing her.

"You are my wife, Alivia. My protection is part of the deal."

"Is that all it is? A deal?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

Gideon didn't answer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, velvet box.

He opened it. Inside lay a necklace. A single, teardrop sapphire, dark as the ocean, suspended on a platinum chain.

"Turn around," he murmured.

Alivia turned. She felt the cold metal against her skin, then the warmth of his fingers clasping it at the nape of her neck.

He kissed the spot right above the clasp. A shiver ran down her spine.

"I have to go to Zurich tonight," he said against her skin. "Business."

Alivia felt a sharp pang of disappointment. "Oh. How long?"

"Three days." He turned her face to look at him. "Will you miss me?"

"Maybe," she whispered.

Gideon smirked. "Liar."

He brushed his thumb over her lips. "Wear the necklace. It tells them you're mine."

"I'm not a dog, Gideon."

"No," he agreed. "You're a wolf. But you're my wolf."

He stood up, adjusting his cuffs. "Silas will stay with you. Don't go anywhere without him."

"I won't."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead. It was a chaste kiss, but it burned.

"Be good, Alivia."

Then he was gone, taking all the air in the room with him.

Alivia touched the sapphire at her throat. It felt heavy. It felt like an anchor.