Chapter 8 The Gilded Cage
Chapter Eight
The Gilded Cage
AVRIELLE'S POV
"Where am I?"
My eyes fluttered open, blinking against the soft, morning light that filtered through heavy velvet curtains. I stared up at the unfamiliar, ornate ceiling for a long moment, my heart hammering against my ribs until the memories of the previous night came rushing back in a violent flood. The divorce. The rain. The way Xavier had carried me into the shower, his skin burning red, his lips so close to mine I could practically taste the electricity between us.
I let out a low, frustrated growl, tossing the thick silk duvet off my body as I sat up. My head throbbed with a dull ache, but it was nothing compared to the knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. I looked around the lavish room, feeling like an intruder in a museum. How was I supposed to face him? After almost kissing my ex-husband's uncle—the man who had personally delivered the papers that ended my marriage—I just wanted to disappear.
Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed against the wood of the door. I froze, my breath catching in my throat as I clutched the sheets to my chest. Please, don't let it be him, I prayed. I wasn't ready to see Xavier. I wasn't ready to see that cold, calculating gaze and wonder if he was thinking about the shower as much as I was.
"Come in," I muttered, my voice raspy and thin.
The door creaked open, but it wasn't the towering, intimidating frame of the Alpha that stepped through. Instead, a young girl walked in, her head bowed respectfully.
"Good morning, Mistress," she said softly, clutching a high-end shopping bag to her chest.
I let out a long, shaky breath of relief. I recognized her now; she was the one who had helped me wash away the grime and the cold last night. Elena, the girl who claimed she was my "personal maid."
"Good morning," I replied, watching her set the bag down on the edge of the bed. "And please, Elena, you don't have to be so polite with me. You really don't need to work for me like this."
The girl’s head snapped up, her eyes wide and brimming with sudden, pitiful fear. "Have I offended you, Mistress? Please, if I have done something wrong, do not tell the Alpha! I—I will do better, I promise!"
She looked so genuinely terrified that I felt a pang of guilt in my chest. I had been in her shoes once; I knew exactly what it felt like to live in fear of an Alpha’s temper. I didn't want to be the reason she spent her day trembling.
"No, no," I said quickly, reaching out a hand to calm her. "You haven't done anything wrong. It's okay. You can stay. I’ll let you serve me."
I figured it didn't matter much anyway. I was planning on leaving in an hour or two. I had no money and nowhere to go, but I couldn't stay here, breathing in his scent and living off his charity.
Elena’s face beamed with instant relief. "Thank you, Mistress! The Alpha... he was very specific. He asked me to help you bathe and dress, and then I am to escort you downstairs for breakfast. He is waiting for you."
My stomach did a somersault. "He's waiting?"
"Yes," she said, reaching into the bag and pulling out a dress made of the softest cream-colored wool I had ever seen. "The Alpha bought these for you this morning. He said you couldn't possibly wear your tattered clothes from yesterday, and the ones you arrived in are currently being laundered."
I stared at the dress, my mind spinning. Why was he doing this? One moment he was the Devil, a ruthless leader who treated me like a criminal, and the next he was acting like I was a fragile egg he couldn't afford to break. It was confusing, irritating, and dangerously sweet.
I didn't have the strength to fight her or him, so I let her lead me back into the bathroom. I let her help me into the warm water, scrubbing away the last of my exhaustion, and I stood still as she draped me in the expensive, new clothes Xavier had picked out for me. As I looked at myself in the mirror—clean, dressed in luxury, yet completely broken inside—I wondered if he was trying to dress up a corpse, or if he was preparing me for something else entirely.
The dining hall was vast, filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and expensive tobacco, but the air felt thin the moment I stepped inside. Xavier was already seated at the head of the long mahogany table, his eyes fixed on a tablet in his hand. He looked impeccably composed in a dark suit, a sharp contrast to the man I’d seen soaking wet and flushed with heat only hours ago.
As Elena pulled out a chair for me, he didn't look up immediately, but I saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. I sat down, the cream-colored wool of the dress he’d bought me feeling far too soft against my skin, like a lie I was forced to wear.
"Eat," he said, finally setting the tablet aside. His voice was deep and gravelly, sending a traitorous shiver down my spine. "You’ve barely had anything in your system since yesterday."
I looked at the spread of food—eggs, fresh fruit, pastries, and meats—enough to feed five people. It was a feast for a queen, but I felt like a prisoner being offered a final meal. I picked at a piece of toast, my throat feeling too tight to swallow. The silence between us was heavy, charged with the memory of the shower and the phantom feeling of his thumb on my cheek.
"Why are you doing this, Alpha Xavier?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly as I finally looked at him. "The clothes, the maid, the food. You hated me for years. You almost had me killed. Now you're acting like my protector?"
He finally met my gaze, his dark eyes unreadable, yet swirling with an intensity that made me want to shrink and lean forward all at once. "Things change, Avrielle. People change. You are under my roof now, and that means you are under my protection. That should be enough for you."
"It's not enough," I snapped, the bitterness of my divorce finally bubbling to the surface. "I don't belong here. I don't belong in this manor, and I certainly don't belong in your charity. I was a maid here once, remember? I know how the hierarchy works. I’m an omega with nothing to my name, and you’re the Alpha who ended my marriage."
Xavier leaned forward, his hands clasping together on the table. The sheer power radiating from him was intoxicating, a magnetic pull that made my heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
"I didn't end your marriage, Avrielle. Adrian ended it the moment he brought your sister into your bed. I simply provided the exit strategy."
"A strategy that leaves me with nothing!" I stood up, the chair screeching against the marble floor. I couldn't do this. I couldn't sit here and pretend that he was the hero of my story when I felt like I was drowning in the wreckage he’d helped create. I needed to go before I let myself believe that the safety I felt in his presence was real.
I took a deep breath, clutching the edge of the table so hard my knuckles turned white, and looked him dead in the eye.
"Thank you for the bed and the clothes, Alpha, but I won't be staying for lunch. I'm leaving."