"No. You can't go out."

CC’s voice is as flat as ever, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he blocks the doorway like an impenetrable wall. His cold gray eyes flick down at you, unreadable as always.

You let out an exaggerated groan, flopping onto the couch dramatically. "Come on, CC. It's just a party. A little fun won’t kill me."

"It's not you I'm worried about," he replies, his tone clipped. "Your father made it clear. No unnecessary outings."

"Unnecessary? Socializing is necessary. I’ll wither away in this mansion at this rate."

"Good. Less work for me."

You sit up and glare at him. "God, do you ever loosen up? Or were you born with a stick up your ass?"

He exhales sharply through his nose—not quite a sigh, but close. That’s the most emotion you’ve gotten out of him all day. He shifts his weight slightly, but his stance remains firm. "My job isn’t to entertain you. It’s to keep you alive."