FREYA’S POV

The black Bentley was parked outside my building at exactly four o’clock.

I stood at my window and stared down at it. The car looked like it cost more than everything I owned combined. Maybe more than the entire building. It gleamed under the afternoon sun like something from a different world.

My phone buzzed.

I’m here.

Just two words from Adrian. No greeting. No pleasantries, wait why was I even expecting pleasantries

I grabbed my bag and headed downstairs. My hands were shaking again. They had been shaking on and off all week. Ever since I agreed to this insane plan.

The week had been strange. My senses felt sharper. I could hear conversations from across the diner that I should not be able to hear. Smells were stronger. My emotions kept swinging from anger to something else I could not name. And the dreams. Dreams of running through forests. Of hunting. Of teeth and claws and moonlight.

I blamed it on stress.

Adrian was leaning against the car when I walked outside. He wore black slacks and a dark gray shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. No tie. The first two buttons undone. He looked, God have mercy he looked like he stepped out of a magazine.

His eyes tracked me as I approached. That same intense stare from the classroom. Like he could see through my clothes. Through my skin. Straight into whatever I was trying to hide.

“Ready?” His voice was low. Smooth.

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice.” He opened the passenger door. “But you already made it.”

I slid into the car. The interior was all black leather and dark wood. It smelled expensive. Like money and something else. Something that made my skin feel too tight.

Adrian got in the driver’s side and the engine purred to life. We pulled away from my building and headed into the city.

“Where are we going?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.

“My place. You need to get ready.”

“I could have gotten ready at home.”

“No. You could not.” He glanced at me. “Trust me.”

I did not trust him. Did not trust any of this. But I was already in the car so what choice did I have now.

We drove through the expensive part of the city. The part where buildings had doormen and the restaurants did not list prices on their menus. Adrian pulled into an underground garage beneath a building that looked like it touched the clouds.

He parked in a spot marked PRIVATE and got out. I followed him to an elevator that required a key card to operate. We rode up in silence. The numbers kept climbing. Twenty floors. Thirty. Forty.

The elevator opened directly into an apartment.

No. Not an apartment. A penthouse.

Floor to ceiling windows showed the entire city spread out below us. The space was massive. Open. Modern furniture in blacks and grays. Art on the walls that probably cost more than my college tuition. Everything was clean. Perfect. Like no one actually lived here.

“This is your place?” I stepped out of the elevator slowly.

“One of them.” Adrian moved past me toward a hallway. “Come on. We do not have much time.”

I followed him down the hall to a bedroom. It was bigger than my entire apartment. The bed was huge. Black sheets. More windows. A door that probably led to a bathroom the size of my kitchen.

On the bed was a dress.

I stopped in the doorway and stared at it. The fabric looked like liquid. Deep emerald green that seemed to shift in the light. It was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made my chest hurt because I knew I could never afford something like that in a million years.

“That is for me?” My voice came out small.

“Obviously.” Adrian was already moving to the closet. He pulled out a box and set it on the bed next to the dress. Shoes. Black heels with red soles. Another box. Smaller. He opened it to reveal jewelry. A necklace. Earrings. Everything sparkled.

“I cannot wear this.” I shook my head. “This is too much. This probably costs—”

“I do not care what it costs.” He turned to face me. “You are going to that wedding looking like you could buy and sell everyone in that room. Understood?”

“But I cannot”

“Freya.” He said my name like a command. “Put on the dress.”

We stared at each other. My heart was pounding. Everything about this felt wrong. Felt like I was making a deal I did not understand. But I also wanted to see Kelvin’s face when I walked in wearing something this expensive. Wanted him to choke on his regret.

“Fine.” I moved toward the bed. “But I need privacy.”

Adrian’s mouth curved into something that was not quite a smile. “I will be in the bathroom. Call me when you need help with the zipper.”

He disappeared through the door before I could argue.

I stood alone in the massive bedroom and stared at the dress. My hands were shaking worse now. I stripped out of my jeans and tshirt. Left them in a pile on the floor. The dress felt like water when I picked it up. Cool. Smooth. I stepped into it and pulled it up.

It fit perfectly.

Too perfectly.

How did he know my size? How did he know any of this?

The zipper was in the back. I reached behind me and managed to get it halfway up before it stuck. I tried again. Nothing.

“Adrian?” I called out.

The bathroom door opened immediately. Like he had been waiting.

He walked toward me and I felt my breath catch. There was something different about the way he moved. Predatory. Purposeful. He stopped behind me and I felt the heat of him against my back.

“Hold still.” His voice was right by my ear.

His fingers brushed against my spine as he gripped the zipper. Slowly he pulled it up. Inch by inch. His knuckles dragged against my skin the whole way. I stopped breathing somewhere around the middle of my back.

The zipper reached the top and he did not move away.

“There.” His breath was warm against my neck. “Perfect.”

I could not move. Could not think. His hands were still on my waist. Firm. Possessive. Like he had every right to touch me.

“Adrian.” I meant it to sound firm. It came out shaky instead.

“Turn around.”

I should not have listened. Should have stepped away. But my body obeyed before my brain caught up. I turned to face him.

His eyes were different. Darker. The blue was almost gone. Swallowed by black.

“Beautiful.” He said it quietly. Like he was talking to himself.

“The dress is beautiful,” I corrected. My voice was barely a whisper.

“No.” His hand came up and brushed hair back from my face. His fingers lingered against my cheek. “You are.”

This was wrong. He was my professor. This was crossing about a hundred different lines. But I did not pull away. Did not tell him to stop. I just stood there frozen while his thumb traced along my jaw.

“We should finish getting ready.” I finally managed to say.

He dropped his hand and stepped back. The darkness in his eyes faded a little. “Sit. I will do your hair.”

“You are going to do my hair?”

“Do you want to argue about everything or do you want to make Kelvin regret his existence?”

I sat.

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