Page 71 of Bound By Crimson
Past the reading nook stacked with books she hadn’t opened.
She had memorized every detail of this place. Counted the tiles in the hallway. Watched dust gather on untouched wine glasses.
Today, she had already rearranged the same vase three times just to do something.
This wasn’t a vacation.
It wasn’t a life.
It was a cage lined in velvet.
Her stomach twisted.
Kai had given her everything.
And in doing so, he’d taken something too.
Her schedule.
Her goals.
Her fire.
Her voice.
She still craved him—his hands, his mouth, the way he could strip her bare with a look.
But she was beginning to realize: Being desired wasn’t the same as being whole.
Her gaze drifted to the kitchen counter where she’d left her sketchbook the night before.
It sat untouched beneath the morning light.
She crossed the room, fingers trembling slightly as she lifted it.
The pages fell open—designs she barely remembered drawing.
Gowns. Jackets. Corsets. Lace-lined fantasies.
Pencil lines that once pulsed with hunger and hope. Designs that had lived in her fingertips long before she ever felt Kai’s.
Her throat tightened. Tears stung her eyes—not for him.
For her.
She ran her hand gently across the page, tracing the delicate curve of a collarbone she had once imagined herself.
“Maybe it’s just a hobby,” she whispered.
She remembered Kai’s promise.
But it seemed impossible.
Yes, he was powerful. Yes, he could make things happen.
But this? This felt too big. Too much of a dream.
“Maybe tonight,” she thought, “I’ll bring it up again. I hate to sound desperate, but I have to know if he was serious.”
