I felt his gaze like a brand on my skin, searing heat that made me very aware I was never alone, that I’d never have to feel that suffocating—cloying—weight of having no one in my life.

Because Arlo always would be.

Once in the bathroom, I shut the door and engaged the lock, leaning against the smooth wood and closing my eyes as I rested my head back. The interior was cool, drying some of the beads of sweat lining my temples.

My heart started beating steadily the longer I stayed like that, the muffled talking on the other side of the door muted enough it was more a white noise than anything else.

I opened my eyes, my vision clearing as I stared at the wall in front of me. Even this guest bathroom was elegantly decorated in expressive golds and whites, accented with black and red splashed across the walls and counters.

After exhaling slowly, I pushed away from the door and went over to the sink, my hands instantly finding purpose on the cool, dark granite counter, my focus on my reflection in the ornate wrought iron mirror before me.

The mirror was large enough I saw my body from the top of my immaculately styled chignon down to my thighs. The dress Arlo picked for me was elegant and wouldn’t have been called modest in the slightest despite covering my entire body.

The long-sleeved illusion-style gown covered me from neck to ankle, with black velvet floral-appliqués along my breasts, belly, and swirling around my ass and between my thighs.

But the back was what made the gown almost obscene, with it being completely open from my nape to the twin dimples right above my ass, the delicate length of my spine on full display.

I’d never felt sexier than I did tonight.

I took another subtle, calming breath but didn’t know why I felt so on edge. Maybe it was because this was the first time since leaving Las Vegas and moving to Desolation, New York, that I’d been surrounded by so many people of such high power and society stature.

Although I lived with Arlo now in his penthouse apartment right outside of the broken, depleted Desolation, you could still feel the underground power that surged through every brick, every slab of wood… and every corrupted person that made it their home.

Desolation was a virus that had no vaccine and spread so rapidly there was no hope for anyone not being contaminated by it.

And even though we were in the glamorous Bishop’s Landing, I still felt all that power seeping out of the diamonds and crystals, the wealthy and aristocratic veneer.

Monsters hiding behind square jaws, red, full lips, and enough money to buy the world.