Elara woke up to silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The kind that felt like eyes watching from the walls.
She sat up slowly in the massive bed, white sheets twisted around her legs like chains that felt too soft to fight. For a brief second, she forgot where she was.
Then she saw the curtains.
Blackwood.
Her chest tightened.
She stood and walked barefoot across the cold marble floor. The room felt like it wasn't hers — too perfect, too big, too empty.
She changed into the simple dress that had been left neatly folded on a chair. No servants. No instructions. Just quiet.
She stepped into the hallway.
The mansion was awake.
But not alive.
It breathed slowly, like a beast that slept with one eye open.
Her footsteps echoed as she found the grand staircase and walked down. The smell of strong coffee drifted through the air — bitter, rich.
She followed it.
The dining room was large enough to swallow ten families.
Dominic sat alone at the long table.
He was already dressed in a dark suit, hands folded around a porcelain cup. A tablet lay beside him. Business, even in his home.
He didn't look up immediately.
"You slept."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
Silence again.
She walked slowly toward him, stopping at the opposite end of the table as if an invisible line existed between them.
"We should talk," she said.
His eyes lifted.
Calm.
Dangerous.
Honest.
"About what?"
"About… us."
The word felt too big on her tongue.
He leaned back slightly.
"There is no 'us,' Elara."
She flinched.
"You are under my protection."
He paused.
"You are not my puppet."
Her fingers tightened lightly on the back of the chair.
"Then what am I to you?"
A long pause.
His jaw tightened — the first crack in his control.
"A responsibility," he said.
A pause.
"And a problem."
Her lips parted, almost laughing.
"That isn't very romantic."
A flicker of something crossed his face.
Humor?
Regret?
Fear?
"Good," he said calmly. "Romance is a weakness I cannot afford."
The door opened behind her.
Footsteps.
A butler appeared and placed a tray gently in front of her.
She stared at it.
He wanted her to eat.
That mattered.
Dominic stood.
He walked toward the tall glass windows overlooking the private gardens.
She found herself watching him.
The structure of his shoulders.
The tension in the way he stood — like someone always preparing for war.
She spoke before she could stop herself.
"Do you ever feel… lonely?"
He went still.
The silence thickened.
Finally, without turning:
"Loneliness is a luxury."
Something in his tone sounded… almost broken.
She felt it then.
The fire.
Not fear.
Not awe.
Curiosity.
A dangerous, growing connection.
A slow fire.
And the slow, terrifying realization whispered inside her chest:
She wasn't scared of him anymore.
She was starting to care.