Chapter 9
Emily woke up early. The house was quiet, just the soft sounds of servants starting their morning routines somewhere below.
She got up and looked around her suite. It was nicer than her room at home but she didn't care much about that. She unpacked the rest of her things: laptop, notebooks, a few personal items she'd grabbed without thinking. They were just stuff. Props for this new life she was playing at.
There was a knock at the door.
"Miss Emily, breakfast is ready."
"Thanks. I'll be down in a minute."
She checked herself in the mirror. Simple dress, hair back, nothing fancy. Good enough.
The breakfast room was smaller than she expected. Sunlight came through the windows, and the smell of fresh bread and coffee filled the space. A steward set a plate in front of her as soon as she sat down.
Emily picked up her fork.
Then she felt a change in the air. Someone else had entered the room.
She looked up.
Timothy stood in the doorway. He was tall, wearing a dark suit that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. His face was hard to read, but his eyes swept the room before landing on her.
Emily didn't react. She went back to cutting her fruit like nothing had happened.
A few seconds passed.
"Good morning,"
she said without looking up.
"Good morning." Timothy replied.
He sat at the other end of the table. A steward brought him coffee. The room went quiet except for the sound of silverware and birds outside.
Emily could feel him watching her. Not constantly, but in those little moments when he thought she wasn't paying attention. She ate slowly, taking small bites, and tried to look like she didn't notice.
After a few minutes, she stood up. Most of her food was still on the plate.
"Thanks for breakfast,"
she said to the steward, then left.
Timothy stayed in his seat, staring at the empty doorway.
"Is she trying to avoid me?," he muttered.
Jack appeared in the hallway. "Sir?"
"Nothing." Timothy stood and straightened his jacket. "Just thinking."
But his mind was working. Emily hadn't tried to impress him. Hadn't even seemed that interested in him at all.
"That was... new."
Women usually wanted something from him. Always. But Emily acted like he was just furniture.
"Interesting."
Back in her room, Emily closed the door and leaned against it. She took a deep breath.
That was Timothy Blackwood. The man everyone was so afraid of. He seemed... normal. Powerful, sure. But just a man.
She pushed away from the door and started her exercises. Stretches first, then lunges, then the shadow movements she'd practiced in her old life.
Her body protested, still too weak, still adjusting but she pushed through the burn.
Pain meant progress.
******
Hours passed. She worked in silence, focused.
Around midday, Emily went outside to the garden. She found a bench under some roses and sat down. It looked like she was just enjoying the view, but really she was counting.
Guards. Their routes. How often they checked in. When the kitchen got deliveries.
Information. All of it is useful.
After an hour, she went back inside.
Timothy watched from his office window as Emily crossed the courtyard.
"Have you noticed anything unusual about her?,"
he said.
Jack looked up from his tablet. "Sir?"
"Emily. She's not like what the reports said. Not like what her family described."
"Sir, you mentioned this issue the last time and I ran another background check on Miss Emily, but the results are the same"
He continued.
"You said she's different?"
"Different how?"
Timothy was quiet for a moment. "She's not trying to get anything from anyone. She's just… quite.."
"Should we watch her more closely?"
"No. Just keep track of what she does. But don't interfere."
"Understood, sir."
After Jack left, Timothy stayed at the window. Emily Smith has become the most interesting thing in his life right now.
And he didn't get interested in things very often.
That evening, Emily sat at her desk with her laptop open. She was reading about Timothy, His businesses, his connections, the rumors about how ruthless he could be.
Powerful men were predictable in some ways. You just had to figure out what they wanted.
A knock interrupted her.
"Come in."
An older steward entered with a tea tray. He had kind eyes.
"Evening tea, miss."
Emily smiled. Actually smiled. "Thank you."
The steward looked surprised, then smiled back. "Of course, miss. Anything else?"
"No, this is perfect."
He left, looking pleased.
The old man reminded her of someone, though she couldn't remember who.
She poured the tea and went back to her research.
Late that night, Timothy stood in his study looking at security monitors. One showed the hallway outside Emily's suite. She'd been there for three hours.
She was smart. Careful. And she didn't seem to want anything from him.
He poured himself a drink and thought about tomorrow. He'd need to talk to her again. See what she was really like under that calm surface.
He was looking forward to it.
In her room, Emily finally closed her laptop. Her neck hurt from sitting so long.
She'd learned a lot about Timothy tonight. But information was only useful if you knew what to do with it. And she wasn't ready yet.
Patience, she told herself. Don't rush.
She stood and stretched, then looked out the window at the dark grounds.
A thought came to her, one she didn't like: being watched by someone like Timothy could be dangerous.
She pushed it away. Romance, feelings, distractions she didn't have time for any of that. Timothy was just another piece in the game. Nothing more.
She got into bed, exhausted.
Tomorrow would bring new problems.