Chapter 25
SHANNON.
I went mute and numb the moment he uttered those words. God knows I was meant to question him, but here I was, sitting in the car with him and his driver, driving to wherever he called 'home'.
All the while, my eyes remained on the window, lost in my own thoughts, watching buildings blur by, pretending I was anywhere but here.
I could feel his eyes crawling over me — not the way a man looks at a woman he wants, but the way a predator studies the animal that tried to run.
It wasn’t lust. It was pure, undiluted ownership.
My reflection in the glass looked foreign — pale, scared, and ruined.
I’d never seen myself look this small.
The car slowed before it stopped. My eyes darted toward the building outside, and my heart skipped.
Guavanna Cheroise Mall.
I knew that name anywhere.
A high-end shopping paradise for the wealthy — clothes, diamonds, perfume that cost more than my rent, just name it.
On the day of the grand opening of this prestigious mall, George and I could only sit at home and watch it on the news.
Whenever I was sad, George would promise to bring me here “someday,” when life stopped kicking him in the teeth.
We used to joke about it. He’d say, “First paycheck from my own company, baby, we’ll go there and buy the whole damn place.”
“Get down,” Kenai ordered flatly.
I didn’t move. “What are we doing here?”
He didn’t even look at me. “To get you something to wear tonight.” He opened the door, his tone all business. “Lingerie, Shannon. Yours is boring. I guess your husband has a horrible taste.”
My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
I sat back and folded my arms across my chest, "Sorry, but no. I don't need them."
He came around to my side, leaned down, and opened the door himself. His hand rested casually on the frame, his expression unreadable. “Get out,” he said calmly, almost kindly, which somehow made it worse. “If I’m going to fuck you tonight, you’re going to wear what I want. Not that boring, pathetic shit your husband buys you.”
“Kenai!” I hissed, glancing at the driver, heat rising to my face. “Stop saying things like that…”
His lips twitched, but it was not quite a smile. It was more like the ghost of one. “Why? Does it sting?” His tone was the kind that made disobedience sound suicidal.
I swallowed hard, my hands gripping the edge of the seat. “I’m not doing this. You can’t just…”
He leaned down until our faces were inches apart. His eyes were like ice — calm, patient, and merciless.
“Shannon,” he said quietly, “I spent six years in a cage thinking about the things I couldn’t do. You have no idea how good it feels to finally hold the leash.”
My breath caught. Six years? Does this mean he was out of prison like... What... Two years ago?
He tilted his head slightly, still staring at me. “Your husband’s freedom? That’s not leverage. That’s a gift. I could’ve taken his life instead.”
A faint grin curved his mouth as his voice dropped to a whisper. “Now, get out of the car before I change my mind about which one of you pays first.”
He straightened up, sighed, and then added in that infuriatingly calm tone, “So, don’t make a scene, Shannon. You don’t want to know how public humiliation feels when I’m the one holding the camera.”
That broke me.
I stepped out of the car, my legs shaky, my heart drumming painfully fast.
The air outside was cool, but I could barely breathe it in.
He closed the door behind me and adjusted his suit like he was walking into a board meeting instead of dragging me into hell.
I tried to keep some distance as we entered the mall, but the moment I took a step back, his hand shot out strong and fast, clamping around my arm.
He pulled me close, bringing his lips dangerously close to my ear.
“What’s wrong?” he murmured. “Ashamed of walking beside an ex-convict?”
His grip tightened.
“Or is it the fact that everyone here will think you’re mine?”
The interior of this place was not anything we ever imagined. It was more.
I’d seen luxury before — on magazine covers, in movies, through glass — but this?
This place felt like money had carved itself into every surface.
The designs, the furnishings, every single thing screamed of luxury and wealth.
And the worst part?
Everyone here knew him.
He was recognized, respected, and feared.
Security guards straightened the second he walked in.
Employees smiled like they were scared not to.
They all greeted the way you greet royalty with their eyes shining like he paid their rent personally.
And maybe he did.
“Good evening, Mr. Grayson.”
“Welcome, sir.”
“So good to see you again.”
A manager practically sprinted to hold the door to the luxury wing.
Every single person here looked at him like he ruled the city.
Meanwhile, I could barely breathe beside him.
Kenai wasn’t just free.
He was powerful.
When we reached the lingerie section, a sleek blonde woman practically floated toward us. She lit up like she’d been waiting her whole life to say hello to him.
“Mr. Grayson,” she breathed, her voice dipped in honey, “always a pleasure.”
Her eyes soaked him in like she had already undressed him in her head.
Then she glanced at me slowly and assessed, with judgment slicing through her lashes.
Her smile thinned immediately. And all I could see was rivalry. Disgust. Curiosity.
What else was new?
She was trying to size me up, wondering what I was to him.
"What can we get for your… guest?" she asked with a saccharine smile that didn't even pretend to reach her eyes. Her eyes flicked over me like I was wearing rags instead of clothes.
Kenai’s hand settled at the small of my back.
He didn’t look at her when he spoke.
“Bring your best and rarest pieces,” he said. “For my fiancée.”
My pulse shook so hard my hands nearly followed.
Fiancee?
The blonde blinked, surprise flickering before she masked it with enthusiasm.
“Oh— of course! Congratulations.”
She turned to me, this time smiling like I was suddenly worth bowing to.
The woman gestured eagerly. “Please follow me. We keep our exclusive pieces in a private section.”
I looked at Kenai, my voice barely working.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, eager for him to tell me it was a mistake.
But he leaned down and spoke in a whisper that was meant for me alone. “Taking back what belongs to me.”