I didn't say a word as I helped the girl into my car.
She winced as she climbed in, clutching my jacket tighter around herself. Her ankle was probably killing her, but she didn't complain. Just grit her teeth and looked straight ahead like she was trying not to fall apart. I slammed the door and circled to the driver's side. Slid behind the wheel.
Started the engine.
The city swallowed us as I pulled away from the alley, taking back roads, avoiding main streets. No point risking anyone seeing me with the D'Angelo princess in the passenger seat. She sat stiffly, fingers twisting the fabric of my jacket.
Every so often, she'd sneak a glance at me—like she knew she was trading one danger for another but had decided it was worth the risk.
Smart girl.
I didn't speak. Neither did she.
Not until we pulled up to my building—a sleek, anonymous high-rise that cost enough to keep curious neighbors away. She hesitated when I opened the passenger door. Like she was weighing her choices again. But after a second, she slid out, limping badly. I caught her elbow, steadying her when she nearly crumpled. She stiffened under my touch but didn't pull away.
"Before you go inside," I said, my voice low, "you owe me an explanation."
She blinked up at me, mascara smudged all over her face, hair tangled, lips trembling. Even like this, she was dangerously beautiful. She opened her mouth, closed it again. Looked away.
I waited.
Finally, she sighed, defeated.
"It was supposed to be my wedding day," she muttered. "An arranged marriage." I raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She kept talking, the words tumbling out faster now—a mess of shame, rage, and heartbreak.
"My family made a deal with another. I didn't have a choice. I was supposed to smile, obey, and tie the two families together like a neat little bow."
Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. "But he…he betrayed me. Publicly. Humiliated me in front of everyone." Her hands balled into fists at her sides, trembling.
"I couldn't do it. I couldn't go through with it." I studied her, arms crossed.
"And that's what you wanted?" I asked. "To be a pawn between two families?"
She shook her head frantically. "I didn't want any of it. But what choice did I have?"
I narrowed my eyes. "Why not run sooner?" She hesitated—too long.
"Strict family," she said finally. "They... they wouldn't have let me go."
A lie. I knew it. She knew it, but I let it slide. Without a word, I turned and led her inside.
My apartment was minimalist. Cold steel, black leather, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Nothing soft. Nothing sentimental. She hovered awkwardly in the entryway until I jerked my chin toward the sofa.
"Sit." She obeyed, sinking down stiffly, the ruined wedding dress spilling around her like a defeated flag.
My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen—another job. Another mess to clean up.
"Stay," I ordered, before stepping into the next room to answer it.
While I talked about work, I kept one eye on her through the glass wall. She sat frozen, staring at nothing. The mask she'd worn at the cathedral was cracking fast.
Good. Let it.
When I finished the call, I stepped back into the room. She didn't notice me at first. Too lost in whatever hell she was reliving. Her hands clenched and unclenched on her lap. Her eyes burned with fury. I could practically feel the heat coming off her. I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms, watching her fall apart.
When she finally sensed me, she looked up. Her gaze locked on mine—raw, wild.
I expected fear. Instead, I saw something else.
Determination. Recklessness.
She pushed to her feet, wincing slightly but refusing to look weak. Step by step, she crossed the room until she stood inches from me. Close enough for me to feel the tremble in her limbs. The sharp, ragged pull of her breath.
"Help me," she said, voice hoarse. I raised an eyebrow.
She turned, gathering her hair to one side, exposing the intricate row of buttons down the back of the ruined wedding gown.
"Unzip me," she whispered. I didn't move, still not sure where she’s going here. Then, slowly, she reached for my hand and placed it on the zipper.
Challenge flashed in her eyes.
A test.
I could walk away. I really should walk away.
Instead, I dragged the zipper down, slow and rough. The dress crumpled to the floor around her feet. She stood there, bare and unashamed, the city lights casting her in silver and shadow. She turned to face me, chin high, defiant even now.
"One last favor," she said. Her voice didn’t shake. Her gaze didn’t flinch.
"I want to sleep with you." And just like that, the world tilted on its axis.