Portia's P.O.V:
We arrived at a beautiful, modern mansion perched on a quiet hill near the sea. The air smelled of salt and pine, and the crashing of waves echoed distantly like a lullaby. As soon as we stepped inside, my breath caught in my throat.
Glass. Everywhere.
The entire front of the house was made of glass, revealing a panoramic view of the ocean on one side and the twinkling city on the other. It felt like walking into a dream—serene, open, limitless. It wasn't just a house; it was a sanctuary suspended between sea and sky.
"Stay here. I'll get us some drinks," Levi said, his voice low and calm. I nodded, too mesmerized to respond with words.
I drifted toward the glass wall, hands clasped behind my back. From here, the city lights sparkled like a million tiny stars scattered across the land. It was breathtaking. You could feel the pulse of life from a distance—cars moving like streams of light, skyscrapers glowing like beacons. Yet, here inside, everything was still and warm. Peaceful.
I turned and noticed a coffee table by the long ivory couch. A single photo frame rested on it. Curious, I walked over and leaned in.
The woman in the photo wore a flowing white dress. Her features were elegant and soft, and she held a small child in her arms. The child had unmistakable dark hair and solemn eyes. It was Levi.
The woman was stunning—so much so that it made something inside me shrink. Her beauty was timeless, and I couldn't help but feel a little inadequate standing in her shadow. I reached out to pick up the frame.
"She's Mom," Levi said, just behind me.
I jumped slightly but turned to face him. He held two glasses of champagne.
"She's gorgeous," I said, meaning every word.
He nodded, eyes drifting to the city lights. "She died when I was four."
The tone of his voice shifted, suddenly brittle. I looked at him. His face was blank, the way it always was. Levi wore his emotions like armor—hidden, controlled. But in his eyes, I saw it: sorrow, pain, even anger. A storm beneath the calm.
"No one was there to support us. I was helpless," he said, eyes far away. "I remember watching her take her last breath… and I could do nothing."
His words hung heavy in the air. I felt the ache in his voice, the kind that comes from carrying years of grief without release. My heart tightened. I knew that feeling. I'd felt it before. When I lost someone dear to me, people were there—but I pushed them all away. I chose silence and solitude. And in the end, I was alone. Just like him. But he never even had the choice.
Without thinking, I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him. He didn't resist. He didn't return the hug either—not at first. But he stood still, letting me hold him.
"I wanted to protect her. But I was just a kid," he whispered.
His words pierced me. My voice trembled as I spoke. "You're not alone anymore, Levi."
He slowly brought his arms around me, pulling me into a firm embrace. "You feel warm… just like her."
Then he turned me gently to face him. His hands came up to cup my cheeks. His eyes were locked onto mine—deep, unblinking, intense.
"Your eyes," he murmured. "They're like the stars. Bright. Lovely. Like hers."
His lips brushed mine—soft, fleeting, like the whisper of wind. Then he pulled back slightly, eyes still searching mine.
"Portia… make me fall deeply in love with you in three days," he said. "If you can't… I'll let you go. And you won't see a single trace of me again."
My breath caught. The idea of him disappearing—like stardust carried away by wind—hurt more than I could admit.
But I nodded. "Challenge accepted," I said, my voice steady.
"How do I tame the heart of the great Levi Everette?" I asked, fingers brushing against his lips.
He smirked faintly. "Do it without me noticing."
And then he kissed me again—longer, deeper, as if sealing a vow.
But how? How would I make him mine?
The Next Morning
I woke up slowly, sunlight spilling through the sheer curtains. The bed beside me was already empty. I sat up, stretching. My body ached in that delicious way after a long night of tangled limbs and whispered words.
I threw on a robe and padded down the stairs. The faint clatter of pans and the smell of garlic and onions hit me before I even reached the kitchen. Coffee brewed in the corner, filling the air with a rich aroma.
Levi stood at the stove, sautéing something in a pan. He wore a plain gray shirt and sweats, and his hair was a little messy from sleep. He looked completely at ease, though his posture remained sharp and focused. I smiled to myself.
I tiptoed behind him, trying not to make a sound. Then I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my cheek against his back.
He froze for a second, startled. His body went stiff, like he didn't know how to react.
Maybe he wasn't used to affection like this. Maybe no one had ever simply held him in the quiet moments.
I stayed there, soaking in his warmth, breathing in his scent. It was woodsy and clean—so Levi. He didn't say anything, but I could tell he was waiting for me to speak.
"Good morning," I whispered, loosening my hug.
"Are you cold?" he asked.
I shook my head. "No. I just want to feel you."
He turned off the stove and turned around, eyes watching me carefully. Then he reached for a lock of my hair and gently rolled it between his fingers.
"What do you want, huh? You're so clingy. It's ticklish," he said with a teasing glare.
"It's a simple gesture of affection, Levi." I laughed softly.
He frowned, then flicked my forehead lightly. "You love goofing around. Let's eat."
He pulled out a chair for me at the dining table and planted a kiss on my lips. It was sudden and a little rough—yet delicious, like he poured flavor into it. Before I could respond, he murmured, "Wait there," and headed back to the kitchen.
He returned with two plates—omelets, crispy bacon, fresh vegetable salad, and black tea. My stomach grumbled in approval.
"You made all this?" I asked, touched.
He nodded. "You were sleeping soundly. I didn't want to wake you."
"What's our plan after breakfast?" he asked as he poured tea into a cup for me.
I smiled. "Let's go grocery shopping. Your fridge is empty. I'll cook for us later, and we'll have a movie marathon. With cuddles."
He blinked. "I've never done stuff like that."
"Well, first time for everything," I said. "Let's do something normal."
He stared at me a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "Sure. Whatever you want."
He leaned in closer suddenly. "Yes?" I asked, caught off guard.
"Tsk. Nothing," he muttered. "You just look cute right now."
Was he… shy?
"Hmm? Levi? Let's start by getting to know each other," I suggested, sipping my tea.
"What do you mean?" he asked, tilting his head.
"I mean, let's talk. Share things. Ask questions. Little by little."
He narrowed his eyes playfully. "You go first."
"Alright," I chuckled. "What's your favorite color?"
He blinked. "Seriously Again?"
"Yes. Let's start by that again."
"White," he said.
"Of course it is," I teased.
"What's yours?"
"Grey. Like your eyes."
He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Stop saying stuff like that."
"Why?" I grinned.
"Because I don't know what to do with it," he muttered.
I laughed, and he gave me a confused frown. "What are you laughing at, woman?"
"You're just… adorable."
"Eh?" he said, looking genuinely puzzled. That made him even more adorable.
We kept chatting through breakfast, light-hearted and playful. He asked me what music I liked, what food I hated, what scared me. I asked him the same. Some of his answers surprised me. Others made my heart hurt.
This morning was simple. But it was perfect.
And I knew—deep down—that every little moment mattered now.
Because I only had three days.
And I was already falling.