Liam hasn’t moved an inch. He’s as stoic as the man next to me.

“I assume the chancellor informed you of the reason behind this visit?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Mr. Bordeaux,” he corrects, mouth sloping into a frown. “And I expect you on your knees when you greet me in the future.” He shoots Liam an irritated glance. “In fact, she should be in that position now.”

His words raise my hackles, and before I attempt to form a response, Liam cuts in.

“You don’t have that kind of authority in this house.”

“Soon enough, my queen.” Heath removes a ribbon of measuring tape from his pocket. “I need to take your measurements.” He gestures to the top of my head, and I remain still as he wraps the tape around my skull.

But I’m quaking on the inside and trying to hold it together. In a few days, Liam won’t be around to protect me from this man.

“Does my queen have any design requests?” he asks as he marks the measurements in a black portfolio.

“Your queen does not.” I can’t help it—the snarky edge sneaks into my tone before I can stop it, and I sense Liam’s sigh rather than hear it. The displeased pull of Heath’s dark brows sends dread through me, and I rush to temper my tone. “But thank you for giving me the option.”

He shuts the portfolio with a decisive snap. “Chancellor, I believe you’ve been lax in handling Miss Van Buren.”

Liam hasn’t moved from his position. Sitting to my right, chin in hand, he watches with hooded eyes that hide any hint of what he’s thinking. “I’ve handled her just fine.”

“Her attitude is unacceptable.”

“We have differing views on what’s acceptable.”

Heath stands with a scowl. “She needs a training session in the dungeon.”

“That won’t happen while she’s in my house.”

Heath swivels his attention between the chancellor and me, jaw rigid and cold, hazel eyes squinting with frustration. “That will be the first thing she receives when she comes to mine.” He strides out of the sitting room, and when the front door of the penthouse slams upon his exit, I startle.

Liam rises. “I can’t let your behavior slide.”

I bow my head in shame because he warned me. “I’m sorry.”

“Apologies won’t save you from the dungeon, and they won’t spare you now.” The sound of a belt buckle lifts my gaze. I’m stricken as I watch him slide the thick leather strap from his pant loops.

“Liam, please.”

“Take off your skirt.”

Blinking back tears, I stand and slide the waistband down my thighs. The light material pools around my feet and I step out of the puddle of chiffon.