I barely slept.

Every time I closed my eyes I saw his face—the cold, assessing stare, the way his fingers had brushed my collarbone like he was already cataloguing what belonged to him. When the first gray light slipped through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I was already awake, sitting on the edge of the massive bed in the same thin white slip I had worn the night before.

A soft knock came at the main door. A young woman in a black uniform entered without waiting for an answer, carrying a garment bag and a small tray of coffee and fruit.

“Mr. Voss requests you dress and come downstairs,” she said...