The palace was too quiet.
She paced the edge of the marble floor barefoot, her skin still tingling from the hot bath the maids had forced her into hours earlier. They hadn’t spoken a word. Just scrubbed her down, massaged oils into her skin, and left her standing naked in a dressing room filled with silk, sheer lace, and golden cuffs.
They’d taken her clothes. Her phone. Even her bra. Now, she wore nothing but a long, transparent ivory slip that clung to her damp curves and left her breasts and thighs exposed to the cool desert air drifting through the open balcony.
Her room—if she could call it that—was bigger than her old apartment. Tall windows, high archways, and a bed so wide it could sleep five. The floors were layered with thick rugs, and the scent of jasmine floated in the air.
