Sullivan assumed the flush of Aleiya’s cheeks was embarrassment over the ordeal. There was no need to even question it.

  He exhaled, long and exasperated.

  “And still, you refuse to speak to me,” he said mostly to himself, but his words carried an edge of irritation. “Is there something else I owe you an apology for?”

  Aleiya gave a gentle shake of her head. She didn’t even need the first apology, but two in one night?

  Absurd!

  He stopped mid-stride, reining in his annoyance. With a slow exhale, he closed his eyes, tilted his head, and let it go before setting her on her feet in the hallway.

  “I think it’s about time we had a chat.”

  A firm hand on her shoulder.

  A step past.

  He expected her to follow without question.

  “There’s a lot to cover, so listen carefully—I won’t waste time repeating myself.”

  He walked as he spoke, tugging at his white silk gloves. His politeness still tinged with the darkness of his earlier contempt.

  “I’d prefer we at least remain cordial—this is nothing more than a professional arrangement. But to do that I—”

  He glanced beside him, expecting her attention—only to meet empty space. He turned, scanning the hall—only to find her exactly where he had left her.

  She hadn’t moved.

  Hadn’t even turned.

  Incensed, yet composed, he called out, "Aleiya!"

  At her name, she finally turned—then stilled again, waiting.

  The Vampire Lord crossed his arms, barely restraining his disbelief.

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  Was she doing this on purpose?

  Was this funny to her?

  He searched her face from across the hallway but found nothing. She held that same passive composure, as if stillness alone could dissolve her into the very air she breathed.

  He gave a huff. “I’m waiting,” he warned.

  But the response was anything but expected.Her eyes widened, then looked to the side as she brought her fingertips to her mouth, confused.

  ‘Waiting for what?’

  She searched all around with her eyes, wondering what he could mean. Her brows knitted, lips parted in silent confusion. She looked back to him, his disapproving glare like a pair of daggers.

  It forced her to swallow down her fear.

  She hesitated, straightened her back, then pointed to herself like a question.

  Taken aback, Sullivan’s dubious expression flickered, momentarily breaking through his disbelief.

  “Yes… I am waiting for you.”

  She hesitated again, nodding faintly, her gaze flickering as if searching for the right answer. She gave him a questioning look, her hands blooming open in front of her—uncertain, hesitant, as if to ask: “To do what?”

  “To come here.” He motioned to the space before him, expectant, unwavering.

  She obeyed, moving swiftly to the spot he chose, not a beat between his command and her compliance. The tension in her shoulders melted, but a lingering tightness remained at the base of her throat.

  She had been certain she would be left there to wait until the next night—or until he finally remembered where he had placed her.

  Just because she was used to it didn’t mean she liked it.

  Yet again, a response Sullivan hadn’t expected. That made three surprises in under a minute. The relief on her face was palpable.

  Did she actually believe he was leaving her there?

  His gaze swept over her, scrutinizing every detail as she stood—awaiting further instruction.

  Noticing he wasn’t immediately appeased, his wife offered him that perfectly painted smile, which infuriated him even more.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. Grinding the tension from his skull wouldn’t make this headache go away. He placed his gloved hand on her shoulder, desperate to ground himself. To make sense of whatever the hell this was.

  “Aleiya,” his voice was composed but undeniably tired. “My wife,” he exhaled sharply, as if the reminder alone could tether his patience.

  With both hands firm on her shoulders, he took in a long, steadying breath.

  “I’m going to need you to give me a straight, no-nonsense answer.”

  She quickly nodded.

  “I need you to say it. Correction—I need to hear you say it.”

  She froze. And stayed frozen, painfully stretching every second they stood there. She looked away before slowly shaking her head no. Her head bowed as she clenched the silk of her dress, a lily slipping from her hair to the floor, landing without a sound.

  He gave a gentle squeeze to her shoulders, bending down to try and get her to look him in the eye.

  “Why? Why won’t you speak?” His voice was level, but his thoughts lurched. He searched her face for spite, for some childish defiance to explain her silence. But her eyes held nothing—only that same unreadable stillness.

  She dared a glance at him, bracing for the moment his patience would snap—when he realized she couldn’t give him what he wanted. But the hateful, simmering rage never came. His hands stayed firm, but her bones remained intact. Not even the sharp, piercing laughter that always preceded something worse—something so much worse.

  Instead, he simply waited, patient, confusion softening his features.

  Aleiya furrowed her brow, bewildered herself. Something was supposed to happen.

  ‘So, why didn’t it?’

  Then his question fully sank in.

  She hesitated—once, twice—unsure of how he’d react. It wasn’t proper. It wasn’t graceful. In fact it was… a bit crass, but it was the only way she could answer.

  She pointed to her mouth, ensuring she was his sole focus, and Sullivan awaited the answer.