Chapter 9: Settling In (Unwillingly)

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Contessa slipped back into the room, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind her with a finality that sent shivers down her spine. Panic surged – She spun around, hands outstretched, slamming them against the door. "Hey! Let me out!"

A muffled voice, gruff and impersonal, responded from the other side. "Orders, ma'am. Strict orders."

Deflation washed over Contessa. She slumped against the door, the sound of her ragged breathing echoing in the silence. Orders. Wyvern, for all her talk of freedom, had locked her in. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill. But she blinked them back, forcing a semblance of composure.

Defeat wasn't an option. She had to figure a way out. Her gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of escape. She tried the window, unsurprisingly finding it locked. Her frustration mounted, but she wasn't one to give up easily.

Dejected, Contessa wandered towards the bathroom, the only unexplored part of the room. A wave of relief washed over her when she found the door unlocked. Inside, a luxurious marble tub gleamed under the soft light. Perhaps a hot bath was just what she needed to wash away the grime of fear and the lingering scent of the Diamond Room.

Spotting a plush bathrobe hanging neatly on a hook, she reached for it, a flicker of gratitude for this small comfort. Stripping off the flimsy excuse for an outfit they called a "costume" at the club, she discarded it in a heap on the floor. The luxurious feel of the soft cotton robe against her skin was a stark contrast to the scratchy fabric she was used to.

Contessa turned on the water, the sound filling the small space with a comforting hiss. She added generous amounts of bubble bath, a small luxury in this gilded cage.

Sliding into the warm water, Contessa let out a sigh of relief. The heat eased the tension in her muscles, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to dream of a future beyond these gilded bars. Maybe, just maybe, Wyvern's offer wasn't a death sentence, but an opportunity – a chance for revenge and a path back to a life beyond the clutches of the Gilded Cage.

As she soaked, her mind replayed the interaction with Wyvern. The unexpected apology, the strange flicker of amusement... Contessa blushed, surprised at how easily Wyvern had unsettled her. Shaking her head to clear the thoughts, she focused on the task at hand. She had a job to do, and freedom, in whatever form it took, was the only acceptable reward.

...

Wyvern leaned back in her chair, the tension from the previous night still clinging to her like a second skin. Across the desk, Sofia and Luca sat, their faces etched with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

"So," Luca began, his voice gruff, "what are we going to do with the dancer?"

Wyvern steepled her fingers, her gaze cool and calculating. "She's no longer just a dancer, Luca. And her name is Contessa."

"Fine, Contessa," Luca conceded with a shrug. "What about her then?"

Wyvern met his gaze unflinchingly. "I've offered her a job."

"A job?" Luca scoffed. "What kind of job? Cleaning toilets?"

Wyvern shook her head, a flicker of something akin to amusement crossing her features, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "That's the beauty of it, Luca. I don't know yet."

Luca leaned forward, his voice laced with suspicion. "You offered her a job you don't even have for her yet? Wyvern, what's going on?"

"What did you tell her exactly?" Sofia asked, shaking her head with a chuckle.

Wyvern shrugged, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. "I... embellished the truth a bit. Let's just say she's under the impression we need her help to take down the Gilded Cage."

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