Chapter 2 - The Golden Cage
The room they gave her was larger than her entire apartment in Brooklyn.
It was located on the same floor, just down the grand mahogany hallway from Jared’s private quarters and Titan’s resting area. It featured a king-sized bed wrapped in Egyptian cotton sheets, a private balcony overlooking the Hudson River, and an adjoining bathroom that looked like a high-end spa.
Yet, as Willa tested the heavy brass handle of the bedroom door, she felt the sickeningly familiar knot in her stomach tighten.
Locked.
She threw her weight against the solid wood, but it didn't even creak. "Let me out!" she yelled, pounding her fist against the frame. "Miles! Kensington! Let me out!"
There was no answer, only the faint, steady hum of the central air conditioning.
Willa backed away from the door, breathing heavily. Her mind raced back to her small, cramped room above the vet clinic. She had spent two grueling years breaking free from a man who locked doors from the outside, a man who treated her like a possession he could keep in a dark closet until he wanted her company. She had sworn she would never let another man trap her again.
And now, she was sitting in a fifty-eighth-floor glass cage, held captive by the most dangerous criminal in New York.
She paced the room for nearly an hour before the sound of a key turning in the lock made her snap her head up.
The door swung open, and Miles stepped inside carrying a silver tray. On it was a plate of freshly prepared seared salmon, asparagus, and a tall glass of sparkling water. Behind him, two imposing men in dark suits stood guard in the hallway.
"Your dinner, Miss Thornton," Miles said politely, placing the tray on the small glass table near the balcony.
Willa didn't look at the food. She marched directly over to Miles, her eyes burning with fury. "I want my shoes. I want my jacket. And I want to leave right now."
Miles adjusted his cuffs calmly. "Mr. Kensington has instructed that you be provided with anything you require—clothing, food, medical supplies for Titan. But leaving is not an option at this time."
"He can't do this!"
"He can, and he is," Miles replied softly. There was no cruelty in his voice, only a cold, matter-of-fact reality. "Miss Thornton, I suggest you eat. You look as though you haven't had a proper meal in weeks."
"I don't want his food!" Willa hissed. "Tell your boss that if he doesn't open these doors, I won't touch his dog. I’ll sit right here and rot."
Miles paused, his hand on the door handle. He looked at her with a fleeting expression that almost resembled sympathy. "If you do that, Titan will die. And if Titan dies... Mr. Kensington will have no reason to be generous with you."
The door clicked shut, and the lock turned again.
Willa sank onto the edge of the plush bed, burying her face in her hands. The silence of the room pressed down on her chest like lead. She wanted to scream, to break the sleek glass lamps, to tear the expensive artwork off the walls. But she knew that temper tantrums wouldn't buy her freedom. Strategy would.
An hour later, the lock clicked open again.
Willa stood up immediately, preparing her defense, but it wasn't Miles or the guards who walked through the door.
It was Titan.
The giant Mastiff dragged his back legs slightly, moving with painful slowness, but he was walking under his own power. He shuffled across the thick carpet, his heavy head hanging low, until he reached the side of Willa’s bed. With a heavy sigh, he collapsed onto the rug at her feet, rested his chin directly on her socked toes, and closed his eyes.
Framed in the open doorway stood Jared Kensington.
He had changed into a dark grey sweater, but the aura of absolute control around him hadn't softened. He held a small bone-china bowl filled with raw, finely ground beef mixed with broth.
"He followed your scent from the living room," Jared said, his gaze fixed on the dog lying at her feet. "He hasn't walked that far in two months."
Willa looked down at Titan, her anger temporarily faltering under the weight of her affection for the animal. She carefully slid her feet out from under his heavy head and knelt beside him. "He's in severe pain. His joints are inflamed from sitting in one position for so long."
Jared stepped into the room, holding out the bowl. "Feed him."
Willa looked at the bowl, then up into Jared’s storm-grey eyes. "Why are you doing this, Mr. Kensington? You have millions of dollars. You could hire a team of ten vets to stay here twenty-four hours a day."
"I did," Jared replied flatly. "They brought needles, machines, and noise. Titan hated every one of them. You came in here with dirty hands and no degree, and you made him choose life in thirty seconds."
He took another step closer, forcing Willa to look up at him.
"I don't trust experts, Miss Thornton. I trust results. And right now, you are the only thing keeping my dog alive."
Willa took the bowl from his hands, her fingers briefly brushing against his warm skin. A sudden, sharp jolt of electricity seemed to shoot up her arm, making her pull back quickly. Jared noticed the reaction, a subtle tilt of his eyebrow showing he hadn't missed it.
Willa didn't offer the meat to Titan right away. Instead, she took a tiny pinch of the raw beef on her index finger and held it two inches from the dog's nose.
Titan’s nostrils flared. He sniffed once, twice. Then, slowly, his broad pink tongue slid out and licked the meat off her finger.
A slow, steady rhythm began. Pinch by pinch, lick by lick. Willa fed the 150-pound beast with her bare hands, completely ignoring the billionaire mob boss standing over her.
Jared watched the interaction in complete silence. His gaze drifted from the dog to Willa’s delicate hands, then to her soft profile illuminated by the city lights.
"Who did that to you?" Jared asked suddenly.
Willa’s hand froze mid-air, a small piece of meat sticking to her thumb. "What?"
Jared gestured vaguely toward her chest, his eyes darkening to the color of thunderclouds. "The mark near your collarbone. And the thin scar on your left wrist. Those aren't from dogs."
Willa swallowed hard, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. "That’s none of your business."
"Everything in this building is my business," Jared said, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper that sent chills down her spine. "Including the people under my roof."
Willa turned her head away, focusing entirely on Titan, who was licking the last drops of broth from her fingers. "I dealt with my past. I escaped it."
"Did you?" Jared mused, leaning down so his face was mere inches from hers. The scent of woodsmoke and expensive cologne filled her senses. "Because from where I'm standing, Miss Thornton, you look like someone who is still running."
Before Willa could throw the empty bowl at his face, Jared stood up, turned on his heel, and walked toward the door.
"The door will remain unlocked from now on," Jared said without looking back. "You have free access to the fifty-eighth floor. But don't try the elevators. My men have strict orders... and they aren't as fond of dogs as I am."
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The door swung closed behind him, leaving Willa alone in the vast, luxurious room with a sleeping giant at her feet and a cold, terrifying reality settling in her chest:
Jared Kensington hadn't just brought her here to save his dog. He was looking at her like she was something he intended to keep.
