Damn it all.

Theo Avangard hadn’t expected this rude interruption.

Surely his followers would notice his absence. For the brief validation they offered him, he assumed they would miss his presence. Being the heir had its perks for his brand, but public trading wasn’t his forte. Avangard Tradings Inc. would be the end of him, for it got him stuck in a hotel cellar, risking his life for a woman he hardly knows.

He should have been blessed for the favour he had done for his family. Yes, Delia Firthe was pretty in that apron of hers, as her photos on Insta had shown him, but he had a feeling there would be an underlying catch. Was her egg fetish the reason she had stayed single? With a face and body like hers, that would have had to be the only reason. Unless she was secretly a nag.

God, he hadn't chained himself to a nag, had he? And now he's stuck in some hotel room with an alleged nag.

A hot alleged nag.

Fucking hell.

Well, the nag was asleep, and she seemed innocent enough in his sweater. The bruising where she had smacked him is still there, but that was to be expected. The drug they pumped him with hit hard, it almost made him feel a bit drunk, making Delia appear in multiple places before he came to. She had fallen asleep while wearing it, burying herself in the sleeves for comfort. It made his chest tighten to see her so comfortable in his garment.

Why did his feelings have to be so over the place? Why did it please him to see her so comfortable? This wasn’t the time to dote over such a stupid urge.

He could figure out the enigma that was Delia Firthe later. He needs to escape this awful room before he loses his mind. He glances around the room, but as him and Delia had surmised, there was nothing to find. All sharp edges had been softened and all loose items had been secured.

His skin chills at the suddenness of the draft—the air exchanger must have turned on. His slim lips form into a frown as he puts his hand on his chest. Goosebumps form instantly. It would be another night that he'd have to sleep in this breezy room.

Theo lowers his head on his arm as he curls his legs closer to retain some heat. He shouldn't have offered his sweater to Delia. But no, it’s the polite thing to do—damn his grandfather and how he was raised! If he was more of an ass, he'd have the warmth he desired.

Heat rises to his face when he observes the gentle curve of Delia's hip, his sweater barely covering her rear. Damn the distance he put between them—he said he wouldn’t touch her. He turns around, opting to stare at the wall instead. There was no place for pleasureful urges here. He had to stifle all he had right away.

Theo wakes up to a soft hand on his chest, her full lips parted as she exhales softly. A mop of miraculously untangled honey blonde curls cover her shoulders, distracting Theo from his current predicament. He carefully takes her dainty hand off of him, placing it by her side. It's only now that he realizes the end of his sweater sits above her belly button. She’s a bit pouchy, but it was expected. A twinge in his abdomen reminds him that this woman has a full figure. Nevermind the Oranges, it was Delia that was going to be the end of him. He hops out of bed, uncaring if he wakes her. He needs to shower and get his mind off of his betrothed.

Theo takes a quick rinse, the water washing the salt off of his exhausted frame. Had it been so long that being locked in the same room as this woman would drive him crazy. The answer is yes. Theo punches the wall tile with frustration. He’d never let his urges take over, but he needed to stay distant. This wasn't the time to act like a repressed nice guy. He grabs the tiny soap, scrubbing every inch of his body as if he was filthy. A mixture of frustration and yearning courses through him. The next time he sees one of those Orange dudes, he's going to punch them black and blue. That helpless feeling where his limbs stopped working…it terrifies him. He refuses to be drugged again.

Theo pauses when he parts the shower curtain, seeing the reflection of the naked towel rack. There aren’t any fucking towels!

He needs his sweater—now.

As Theo leaves the bathroom, he notices Delia moving around on the mattress. She peeks up, blinking at the dripping mess that Theo was. Her violet eyes glimmer briefly before she blinks; just what the hell was she staring at?

“Kindly hand me my sweater,” Theo says with an outstretched hand.

“But you just ran the shower! How am I supposed to get changed when you made the whole bathroom muggy?”

“I’m dripping wet. Give me my sweater before I rip it off of you.” His temper takes over his manners.

“There's no need to be rude! Turn around and don’t peek.”

“I have no desire to.” That's the biggest lie he's told today.

“Good.” Theo hears the ruffle of clothes shifting, soon feeling the warmth of the garment on his shoulder. It smells slightly of vanilla. His briefs tighten slightly. Hell no. Without muttering thanks, Theo storms into the bathroom to dry off. He would opt to go shirtless for the rest of the day. He refuses to let Delia Firthe become a distraction.

Theo dries off using the turtleneck. He doesn't know how he's going to survive imprisonment with Delia Firthe.