Chapter Nine

"Wait out here," I huffed, giving him a venomous glare. I stepped back into my room and slammed the door shut, twisting the lock until it clicked.

I didn't have the energy or the desire to dress up for a bunch of college students, and I certainly wasn't going to put on a show for the monster waiting in the hallway.

Marching over to my closet, I yanked off my oversized cream sweater and quickly swapped it for a slightly more fitted, ribbed black long-sleeve top. I kept the same simple dark jeans, quickly checked that my hair was still securely pinned back in its neat bun, and grabbed my small shoulder bag.

I was in and out in less than three minutes.

I twisted the deadbolt, threw the door open, and stepped out into the corridor, fixing him with a flat, completely unbothered expression.

"I'm ready," I announced tightly, throwing my bag over my shoulder.

Christian didn't move from his spot against the wall. Instead, his eyes slowly dropped from my face, scanning down my simple black top and regular jeans all the way to my sneakers, before traveling back up. The amused smirk vanished from his lips, replaced by a hard, critical line.

He let out a low, disbelieving scoff.

"Who are you following like this?" he asked, his deep voice dropping into a rough, demanding register. He gestured vaguely at my entire outfit with a look of pure arrogance. "You look like you're heading to a library prep session, not a campus party. Go back inside and put on something that actually looks like you tried."

"Do you want me to actually go or not?" I fired back, crossing my arms over my chest and refusing to budge a single inch. "Because this is what I’m wearing. If it’s not up to your high-society standards, Christian, then you can happily leave me behind. Cause I would be glad to sit this out."

Christian didn't answer right away. He slowly straightened up from the wall, his massive frame looming over me, entirely swallowing up the space in the narrow corridor. He took one slow step forward, forcing me to tilt my chin up just to keep eye contact.

"Nice try, Snow," he whispered, his deep voice dropping into that quiet, dangerous register that made my skin prickle. He reached out, his large fingers lightly brushing against the strap of my shoulder bag, sending an unwelcome jolt straight down my spine. "But you're not sitting anything out. You're walking into a house full of my teammates and rival fraternities tonight. Everyone is going to be looking at the girl living under my roof."

"I am not your responsibility," I hissed, leaning back against the doorframe to get away from his suffocating presence. "And I don't care who looks."

"I do," Christian murmured, a dark, wicked glint returning to his eyes. He reached past me, his broad shoulder deliberately brushing mine as he twisted my bedroom doorknob and pushed the door right back open. "Now go back inside and pick something that doesn't cover you like a winter blanket. Or do I need to come in there and pick it out for you?"

"I am not changing," I stood my ground, my voice tight and unyielding.

But Christian didn’t care about my protests. Before I could even react, he stepped right over my threshold, invading my personal space for the second time today.

"Heyyyy!!" I gasped, my hands flying out automatically to push against his hard chest as he barged into my room.

It was like trying to push back a solid brick wall. Christian didn't budge an inch. Instead, he smoothly used the heel of his shoe to kick the bedroom door shut behind him. The soft, definitive click of the latch echoing through the room felt entirely too much like a trap snapping shut.

"What do you think you're doing? Get out!" I snapped in a harsh whisper, frantic eyes darting to the closed door, terrified our parents downstairs might hear the commotion.

Christian slowly looked down at my hands resting against his chest, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across his handsome face. He didn't even drop his hands into his pockets this time; he just stood there, towering over me and making my bedroom feel incredibly small.

"I gave you a choice, Snow," he murmured, his dark sea-blue eyes glinting with absolute amusement. "You didn't take it. So now, I'm taking the choice away."

"You can't just barge into my room whenever you feel like it!" I hissed, taking a hasty step backward to create some distance between us. My lower back bumped against the edge of the desk, completely trapping me. "You don't own me, Christian!"

"No," he agreed softly, his heavy gaze tracking my movement before drifting over to my open walk-in closet. "But I own the keys. Now, are you going to show me what else you brought in those suitcases, or do I start tearing through them myself?"

Without even waiting for a reply, Christian turned on his heel and walked straight past me, heading directly into my walk-in closet as if he had every right to be there.

"Hey! Stop it!" I gasped, spinning around to follow him.

He completely ignored me, his large hands immediately shifting through the hangers with a practiced, casual ease. The contrast of his massive, rugged frame against my neatly organized wardrobe was completely overwhelming. He flipped through my cardigans, my flannels, and my basic tees, his jaw tightening into a hard line with every piece he passed.

"Damn, Snow," Christian muttered, letting out a low, disbelieving scoff as he pushed a row of my favorite sweaters aside. He turned his head slightly, throwing a devastatingly arrogant look over his broad shoulder. "You've got some seriously ugly clothes. Did you dress exclusively in drapes back in Utah?"

"They are not ugly!" I hissed, my face hot with a mixture of intense embarrassment and pure rage. I marched into the closet after him, reaching out to yank his hand away from my things. "They're comfortable! Not everyone dresses to impress an entire hockey team!"

Christian smoothly evaded my hand, his fingers stopping on a piece buried near the very back of the rack. It was a gown I had completely forgotten I even packed—a corseted, dark silk dress that fit like a second skin, one of the few items my mother had forced me to buy before the move.

He pulled it from the rack, holding it up against the light. His dark sea-blue eyes scanned the fabric, a slow, dangerous satisfaction bleeding back onto his handsome face.

"This," Christian murmured, his deep voice dropping into a rough, low register that vibrated right through the small space of the closet. He turned around, stepping close enough that the fabric of the dress brushed against my jeans. He held it out to me, his smirk firmly back in place. "This is manageable."

"I am not wearing that!" I fired back, my voice rising slightly before I quickly checked myself, remembering our parents were downstairs. I stared at the dark silk dress in horror. The structured corset and low-cut neckline were a far cry from the safe, comforting layers I usually hid behind. "It's way too much for a campus party."

Christian didn't look even remotely phased by my refusal. He slowly lowered the hanger, a cold, challenging glint taking over his sea-blue eyes. He tilted his head toward the closet door, his mouth twisting into that familiar, infuriating smirk.

"Want me to call your mother?" he asked smoothly, his tone laced with a lazy, unmoving threat. "I'm sure Chanelle would absolutely love to come up here and see what we're picked out. She’d probably help you zip it up, too."

My jaw clenched so hard it physically ached. He knew exactly how to play me, using my mother’s desperate obsession with this new family dynamic like a weapon.

The thought of my mom rushing up here, fluttering around us and making a massive deal out of everything, made my stomach turn.

"You are a monster," I hissed, stepping forward and yanking the dress out of his hand with enough force to rattle the plastic hanger. "Fine. Get out!"

Christian didn't move immediately. He let his empty hand slowly drop back into his pocket, his heavy gaze dropping down to watch how tightly I gripped the dark silk against my chest, before rising back to my eyes. The sheer arrogance radiating off his massive 6'3" frame was suffocating in the tight space of the closet.

"Ten minutes, Snow," he murmured, his deep voice carrying a rough, satisfied rumble as he finally stepped past me toward the bedroom door.

"If you're not out in ten, I'm coming back in to finish the job myself."