Chapter 59: Punishment

The car pulls away from the building and I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead, watching the city lights blur past the tinted windows, even though I can feel Bael staring at me with an intensity that’s impossible to ignore.

The silence stretches between us, heavy with something I can’t quite name, and I’m determined not to be the first one to break it, determined to maintain the composure I’ve held onto since walking into his office and finding Xue Lian perched on his desk like he owned the place.

Then Bael speaks, voice carrying that edge of amusement I’ve learned to recognize.

"I guess I should find you something to do," he says, tone conversational but loaded underneath. "It looks like you have too much time on your hands."

I turn to look at him then, keeping my expression neutral.

"Oh please, you seem to be the one with not enough work, no?"

His eyebrow raises slightly.

"So that’s why you came all the way to the office just to take me home?" he asks, and there’s definitely amusement there now, clear and undisguised.

"You said you’d be home for dinner," I reply, maintaining my calm tone even though we both know I’m stretching the truth.

"Really?" Bael leans back against the seat, studying me with that calculating look. "Why don’t I remember saying that? Hmm?"

He didn’t say that.

I know he didn’t say that, he knows he didn’t say that, and we both know that I know he knows, but I’m not about to admit it out loud because that would be conceding defeat and I absolutely did not show up at his office dressed in designer clothes and heels just to lose the argument now.

Before I can formulate a response though, his hand shoots out and grabs my jaw, fingers firm against my skin, turning my face toward him with enough force that I can’t pull away even when I try.

"You get bolder by day," he says, voice dropping lower, thumb brushing over the spot on his neck where I dug my nails in earlier. "You use claws now, huh?"

I try to twist my face out of his grip but his hold is solid, unmoving, and all I accomplish is making his fingers tighten slightly.

"Well, did it hurt?" I ask, aiming for defiant but probably landing somewhere closer to defensive.

The car slows then, turning into the familiar gates of the Wuchen estate, gravel crunching under the tires as we pull up to the main entrance, and I can see the lights from inside the house spilling out onto the driveway through the windows.

We’re home.

Finally.

I can get out of this car and away from Bael’s grip and this conversation that’s heading somewhere I’m not entirely sure I want to go.

Bael’s expression shifts into something darker, something that makes my pulse kick up for reasons I don’t want to examine.

"Hmm," he says slowly, deliberately, "I guess you need to be punished for growing claws."

Then he’s opening the car door and stepping out, but his hand doesn’t release my jaw, just uses it to pull me along with him, dragging me out of the car and toward the entrance with purposeful strides that I have to scramble to match in these heels.

"Wait, what punishm—"

Mrs. Wen appears in the entryway as we pass through, probably coming to ask about dinner, and Bael cuts me off mid-sentence without even looking at me.

"We’ll skip dinner tonight," he tells her, tone casual like this is a completely normal announcement.

Mrs. Wen nods, professional as always, though I catch the slight widening of her eyes.

"What?" I manage to get out, trying to slow our progress toward the stairs but Bael’s grip doesn’t falter. "When did we decide that?"

"Didn’t we decide yesterday?" Bael replies, and there’s something wicked in his voice now, something that makes my stomach flip. "To eat each other for dinner?"

A strangled cough sounds from somewhere behind us, probably one of the bodyguards who followed us in, and when I glance back I see Mrs. Wen desperately trying to control her expression, a smile threatening to break through her professional composure, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Heat floods my face so fast I feel dizzy with it, burning from my neck to the tips of my ears, and I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole because did he really just say that, out loud, in front of the staff, in front of Mrs. Wen who’s known me since I moved in here?

"That’s not...I didn’t..." I try to protest but the words tangle on my tongue, coming out incoherent and useless.

Bael doesn’t give me time to form a proper sentence, just continues pulling me along, up the stairs, down the hallway, toward our bedroom with single-minded determination that’s both familiar and terrifying.

The door opens and suddenly we’re inside, and before I can get my bearings his hands are on my shoulders and I’m being pushed backward, my legs hitting the edge of the bed, balance going sideways.

I fall onto the mattress with less grace than I’d like, bouncing slightly, and immediately try to scramble back up but Bael is already there, already crowding into my space, one knee coming up onto the bed between my legs in a way that effectively traps me.

I look up at him and something in my chest seizes.

There’s something in his expression that I haven’t seen before, something dark and intense and almost predatory, like he’s made some decision that I wasn’t consulted about and now I have to deal with the consequences.

It makes me shiver, actual fear mixing with something else I don’t want to name, and my hands come up instinctively to press against his chest even though I know it won’t do anything if he doesn’t want it to.

"What are you..."

"Punishment," he says simply, voice low and rough. "For using claws. For interrupting my meeting. For dragging me home when I was clearly busy."

His hand comes up to wrap around my wrist, pulling it away from his chest, pinning it to the mattress beside my head with firm pressure.

"For pretending I said I’d be home for dinner when we both know I didn’t."

The other wrist gets the same treatment, both of my hands now held against the bed, and I’m effectively trapped beneath him, unable to move, unable to do anything except stare up at him and try to control my breathing which is coming faster than it should.

"For showing up at my office looking like that," he continues, eyes dragging over me deliberately, taking in the fitted turtleneck, the pants with diamond beads, the heels I’m still wearing that are digging into the mattress. "Dressed to kill and pretending it was innocent."

"I wasn’t—"

"For lying."

His face is close to mine now, close enough that I can feel his breath against my skin, can see the way his pupils have dilated, can feel the heat radiating off him.

"You’ve been very bad, Runze."

My mouth goes dry.

Is he really going to eat me?