Chapter 9 CHAPTER 009
This is the first time Soren has slept on a luxurious bed other than that crappy thing he used to call a mattress. Despite sleeping late because of the gala he attended with Reign, Soren still had the best sleep he had in a while.
He stretches as he walks out of the bedroom in Reign’s mansion, which now belongs to him, dressed in oversized shorts and an even larger shirt.
“Good morning, Mr. Fox."
There’s a row of servants lined up in perfect order, standing straight like soldiers awaiting to serve some royalty. Each of them carries something on a silver tray: coffee, juice, folded clothes, and what looks like documents.
“What the hell…” he mutters under his breath, realizing there are seven of them.
One of them steps forward, and Soren almost takes a step back as she bows lowly. “Good morning, Mr. Fox. Mr. Montgomery instructed that you are to be served and meet him downstairs.”
Soren chuckles as if this is some sick joke. “I can serve myself just fine. This is ridiculous; he didn’t sign for this.
“We were given strict orders by Mr. Montgomery; we can not disobey him.”
The more they speak, the more Soren realizes just how ridiculous the entire situation is. “Where is Mr. Montgomery?” he asks, and they share uncertain glances at each other. Soren sighs. "Never mind, I will find him,” he tells them, and without another word, he walks away, looking for the Enigma.
Soren walks down the long hallway, realizing the mansion is too quiet for a place this large; almost every step he takes echoes softly against the floors and high ceilings, while the air smells too clean, like nothing is ever allowed to be out of place. Soren hates it.
Finding Reign isn’t hard when his presence can be felt in almost every part of the mansion. He finds the man in the large living room, occupying the sofa too eagerly, legs crossed over each other, dressed in black with black gloves on his hands and a large coat over his shoulder, sipping coffee, which he immediately pauses when his gaze lands on a barefoot Soren.
He drops the coffee cup on the little table beside him while his dark eyes sweep over Soren before meeting his eyes dangerously. “What are you wearing?”
Soren has never been so ashamed of his oversized clothes till now. The distaste in the enigma's eyes makes him almost shiver. Soren clenches his jaw. “It’s morning; I don’t think there’s anything wrong with what I’m wearing. I should ask you why I’d wake up to a royal parade outside my room.”
“Burn them."
Soren blinks, caught off guard by the order. “What?”
“I said, burn the clothes,” he repeats the words in a deeper tone that makes Soren shiver again. “You will be meeting the designer today to get your measurements. Your wardrobe will be changed. So you should let the maids help you get dressed into something more fitting,” he continues, and then he gets up from his seat, arranging his coat, and without another word, he turns to leave.
Soren blinks, his brain failing to comprehend what just happened. “Wait!” he calls out before he can stop himself.
Reign pauses mid-step but doesn’t turn immediately.
Soren swallows and walks a few steps closer, bare feet silent against the shiny floor. “You can’t just burn my clothes. They’re mine, and there’s nothing wrong with them,” he tries to hide the anger from his voice. One thing he hates the most is being told what to do, and it doesn’t matter that this man is paying his bills.
Reign turns then, one brow lifting slightly. “They were.”
Soren stiffens. “Excuse me?”
“You live under my roof now. You represent me. What you wear reflects on me.” ” Reign says calmly. “
“I’m not some trophy you get to dress up however you like.” Soren counters, his eyes hardening. “I have a right to choose what I wish to wear.”
Reign’s gaze sharpens at that. “You are my fiancé, and when you signed your name on the contract, you signed that right away,” he corrects.
The words cause Soren to take a step back while his mouth hits the floor. Reign doesn’t say anything more as he turns and leaves, leaving Soren standing there to realize the gravity of what he signed into.
He’s fucked.
~~
Soren doesn’t go to some expensive, luxurious shop to be measured for clothes that scream money and glam. Soren hates being told what to do, and he will do anything rather than do that, so Soren snuck out the moment he got the chance. He went to the only place that won’t judge him for how poor he is and how unfit his clothes are.
“Another one!” Soren orders as he slams the glass on the counter, nodding his head to the sound of the loud music of the bar.
Theo scoffs and takes the glass from behind the counter, filling it up with more whiskey, before pushing it towards him, and Soren happily takes the glass. “You have been all over the news. Congratulations on stepping into the high society.”
Soren lets out a dry laugh before taking a long gulp. The whiskey burns down his throat, and he welcomes it. “High society,” he scoffs. “More like high prison.”
Theo leans both elbows on the counter, studying him carefully. “You look like someone who just lost a fight.”
“I didn’t lose,” Soren snaps quickly, then sighs and runs a hand through his red hair. “He wants to burn my clothes.”
Theo blinks. “Your clothes?”
“Yeah. Apparently, they’re unacceptable. I’m unacceptable.” He gestures vaguely at himself. “Too street. Too… imperfect.”
Theo’s expression shifts at that word. “He said that?”
Soren clenches his jaw. “Might as well have.”
Theo straightens with a chuckle. “You signed a contract with the richest, most controlling Enigma in the city. What did you think was going to happen?”
“I didn’t think I’d be remodeled like some project. I’m not his property.” Soren pouts, his cheeks flushed with alcohol. “Fuck, I hate rich people. They think they have the whole world in the palm of their hands, and everyone is expected to follow their rules just to survive."
Theo exhales a sigh. “Tell me about it. Do you regret it?”
Soren pauses for a moment, staring blankly at the glass of whisky as if it answers. “No, I don’t regret it. I’m willing to take anything as long as Iris lives."
Theo nods because he understands, while Soren takes another sip of his drink.
“Fox,”
Soren hears the sound of his name and smells the alpha before the empty seat beside him is taken, and a hand drapes over his shoulder. He whips his head to see a familiar face, yet nameless because he barely knows anyone’s name in the ring.
“We haven't seen you underground for a while. What have you been up to, Fox?”
Soren shrugs the hand off his shoulder and distances himself from the smelly face. “None of your business. Touch me again and will break your fucking neck,” he snaps and takes a sip of his drink while the alphas remain unoffended.
“You’ve been missing,” he continues, leaning closer, breath thick with cheap beer. “People are asking for you. The big boss is setting up a high-stakes match tonight. Bigger crowd. Bigger money. You in?”
Soren lets out a humorless chuckle, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “I’m always interested. Depends on the payout.”
The alpha grins, leaning closer despite the earlier threat. “Payout’s good, like real good. You in? I will inform the big boss right away.”
Soren smiles; he doesn’t even think twice about it as he blurts out. “Of course, I miss putting those shitty alphas in place."
“Soren…” Theo immediately cuts in, his eyes giving a warning that Soren obviously misses as the Beta throws a hand over the alpha’s shoulder and pulls him close.
“It will be fine and fun, just like old times.”