I don’t think he’s a spy, but he seems more dangerous than a simple businessman. I peek a glance at him. He’s still gripping me by the elbow, his touch gentle but firm. I know because when I attempt to remove my arm, he tightens his hold, forbidding any movements.

His message is clear: I’m to go along with whatever he pleases. I signed my fate to him the moment he coerced me into this.

Or maybe it was when he first saw me and decided I’d be his wife.

When was that exactly? When he saved me from the passing van? Or was it when he asked me to clean my face as if the smudges on his wife’s lookalike features offended him? Or did he perhaps see me in the shelter and has followed me since then?

The entire time Emily and the others transformed me into Lia, I kept thinking about how he found me in the parking garage. I didn’t sense anyone following me, and I have an acute awareness of my surroundings, considering my homeless status.

Ex-homeless now.

Any of my fellow homeless people would feel flattered by this opportunity, but my stomach has been knotting in and out of itself ever since Bulky Blond grabbed me by the hood and thrust me in his boss’s direction.

When we exit the elevator, Bulky Blond hurries to the car and opens the back door. That’s when I notice Adrian is only wearing a shirt and pants. “Your coat is upstairs. Should we go get it?”

“No.”

“But it’s freezing.”

He stares at me for a beat. “Are you warm?”

“Yeah, but I’m already wearing a coat.”

“It’s fine then.” He flattens a palm at the small of my back and places his other hand on top of the car to stop my head from bumping against it as he guides me inside.

My fingers tremble and I clasp them on my lap as I’m surrounded by the smell of leather from the seats. What is this feeling? No one should be this chivalrous yet terrifyingly dangerous at the same time.

But I have to remember that he’s not seeing me right now. He’s seeing Lia in me. I don’t know why that makes me want to reach out and…what? Remove myself from her skin? Would that even be possible anymore?

As soon as Adrian joins me and the guards take their seats up front, my stomach growls. The sound is so loud that Bulky Blond and Crooked Nose freeze.

I purse my lips, but I can feel the blood rising up my cheeks. Damn it. I’ve never been embarrassed about my hunger until this very moment.

Adrian’s calm gaze slides to me, unaffected—bored, even. I wonder if he ever gets mad, then immediately push that thought out of my mind. He’s terrifying in his calm mode, and I don’t want to imagine how he is when he’s angry.

“What do you want to eat?” he asks.

“I’m okay.”

He taps an index finger against his thigh before stopping. “You’re obviously hungry. Food comes with the deal, and, therefore, you don’t have to feel self-conscious asking for it.”

That’s right. It’s one of the main reasons I agreed to this in the first place.

“Anything.” My voice is just above a whisper.

“Anything isn’t food. Pick something.”

“I don’t care as long as it’s…food.”

“What if I get you fried cockroaches?”

My nose scrunches as I stare at him.

He raises a brow at my reaction. “You said anything.”

“Not that.”

“Then specify. If you don’t express yourself, you’ll get nothing from me.”

Wow. Is he always this…infuriating?

“A sandwich,” I snap and clamp my lips shut, hoping he didn’t catch it.

If he disapproves of my tone, he says nothing and, instead, addresses Crooked Nose in a foreign language that I assume is Russian.

He looks slightly different as he speaks in it, but not exactly in a better way. More like authoritative and non-negotiable. He gives off that vibe with his subtle Russian accent, too, but it’s clearer with his mother tongue. It could be because I don’t speak the language, though.

Crooked Nose nods, then steps out. After ten minutes of utter silence, he comes back with a takeout bag. My mouth waters at the smell of hot bread and fresh vegetables. I wish Larry were here with me; he usually steals sandwiches for me and I share, but he always says he’s full. He doesn’t like me stealing alcohol, but he’s fine with stealing food. That old man has a warped sense of morality.

However, none of the sandwiches he’s brought me have ever smelled this divine. Like it’s right out of an oven.

My stomach growls again, and this time, I don’t try to hide it.

Crooked Nose hands the bag to Adrian, not me. Neither he nor Bulky Blond look in my direction.

Adrian opens the bag and hands me the sandwich. I don’t even pause to see what’s inside it. I bite straight into it, filling my mouth in one go. It melts on my tongue and I don’t properly chew before gulping it down.

I’m about to take another bite when it’s pulled from my fingers.

“W-what—” I stare incredulously at the perpetrator, Adrian, who snatched my sandwich. Please don’t tell me he bought me food just to take it away.

“Eat slower or you’ll get indigestion.” He tears off a piece and places it in front of my mouth. I try to take it from him, but he shakes his head.

I really don’t care about the method as long as I eat right now, so I open wide and let him put it in my mouth. As soon as it’s inside, I swallow it in one go.

“Slower,” he repeats, more firmly this time. “Chew first.”

It’s then I realize that we’re actually moving. I’ve been so focused on the sandwich that I lost all awareness of my surroundings.

Except for Adrian.

One way or another, he’s been present ever since I first met him. He’s a quiet force that slowly creeps under my skin and leaves me panting for more—or less. Either way, he’s there, under my skin, and it’s impossible to breathe without feeling his presence.

It’s baffling to think I’ve lived twenty-seven years and have never experienced such intensity. Such…raw, quiet display of power.

I’ve always thought those in power ensured it by brute methods, that they killed or schemed. That they were loud and barked orders—like Richard. Adrian is the complete opposite of that notion—he’s silent, calm, but exudes an authority so raw, it’s even more terrifying than those with loud power.