The sun hadn't yet risen when I woke, but the brightness in my room betrayed the early hour. I blinked against the glare of the floor-to-ceiling windows, my eyes traveling over the lavish surroundings I had barely had time to process the night before. Silk curtains, a king-sized bed that could swallow me whole, polished floors reflecting light like mirrors… I felt like an intruder in a world I had no business entering.
I sat up, my heart still racing. My small apartment back in the city seemed like a dream now—humble, messy, but mine. Here, every corner screamed wealth, power, and control. And at the center of it all… Nathan Blackstone.
I shivered, remembering his cold voice. "Do not test me, Amara. I do not forgive easily." Those words played in my mind like a warning that I couldn't ignore.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. How had my family allowed this to happen? How had I let myself be dragged into someone else's war? My palms trembled as I tried to steady my thoughts, to convince myself I could survive this nightmare.
A knock at the door made me jump.
"Amara?" The voice was soft, almost polite, but it carried an authority I couldn't mistake. "It's time to get ready. Mr. Blackstone will see you shortly."
I froze, unsure whether to answer or pretend I hadn't heard. My stomach knotted. I had no choice. With a deep breath, I smoothed my dress and opened the door.
He was standing there—Nathan Blackstone, perfectly tailored suit, hair perfectly in place, and that same unreadable expression that had made me feel both terrified and inexplicably drawn to him.
"Good morning," he said, his voice calm, measured, but with a weight that made me want to shrink. "I trust you slept well?"
I swallowed. "I… I suppose," I murmured, keeping my eyes on the floor.
He raised a brow, stepping into the room, his gaze scanning me from head to toe as if evaluating my worth. "Suppose? That's not confidence. You'll need confidence here, Amara. Even if you don't feel it."
I wanted to tell him where he could shove his advice, but I swallowed my pride. Words would not serve me here. Not yet.
The walk through the mansion was surreal. Servants moved silently, cleaning, arranging, anticipating every need even before it arose. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfume, polished wood, and something sterile, almost intimidating. I kept my hands folded in front of me, trying not to show my nerves.
"Amara," Nathan said without looking at me, "you'll eat only in the main dining room. You'll follow my schedule. You'll answer when I speak. Understand?"
"Yes," I replied, my voice quieter than I wanted it to be.
"Good." He finally turned his piercing gaze on me. "Rule number one: do not assume kindness where there is none. Everything you think you know about me… forget it. You're here to survive, not to befriend me."
I nodded, even though inside, my blood was boiling. Survive. That was all I could do for now.
Breakfast was tense. Nathan ate without speaking much, his eyes occasionally flicking toward me with something unreadable. I tried to make conversation, but every word felt like it bounced off an invisible wall. Even the servant who brought the dishes seemed afraid to speak in his presence.
Halfway through the meal, I accidentally knocked over a glass of water. Time seemed to slow. The glass hit the floor with a sharp crash, sending water spreading across the polished marble. My cheeks flushed.
Nathan's gaze snapped to me. "What do you think you're doing?" His voice was low, dangerous.
"I-I'm sorry!" I stammered, rushing to grab a napkin.
He stood suddenly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. "Apologies don't undo carelessness, Amara. You will learn fast, or you will regret it."
I wanted to curl into myself, but I forced my spine straight. "I'll be more careful," I said, meeting his gaze as much as I dared.
A flicker of something—annoyance? amusement?—passed over his face before he turned away. "See that you do."
Later, Nathan led me on a tour of the estate. Every hallway, every door, every artwork screamed control, wealth, and meticulous order. I noticed cameras tucked in corners, guards stationed subtly behind corners, and a staff that moved with silent precision.
"Why does everything here feel… watched?" I asked, my voice hushed.
"Because it is," he said simply. "I do not tolerate surprises. You will adjust to that, or this place will feel like a prison."
I swallowed hard. This wasn't just a mansion. This was a fortress. And I was trapped inside with the enemy.
We stopped in the library, a room filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, leather chairs, and the faint scent of old paper. Nathan picked a book at random, flipping through it absentmindedly.
"You read?" I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.
"Occasionally," he said, then his gaze snapped to mine, sharp as a blade. "Do not mistake my hobbies for kindness, Amara. You are not here to socialize."
By the time evening came, my nerves were frayed. I had barely eaten, barely spoken without fear, and yet… I could feel something stirring inside me—defiance, courage, perhaps even a spark of curiosity.
I was brought to my room again, but this time, a folded note was placed on my desk. The handwriting was delicate, almost feminine:
"Do not trust him completely. He is dangerous. But he is not invincible."
I frowned, sliding the note into my pocket. Who could it be? An ally? A spy? Or some cruel trick from my family?
The sound of the door opening froze me. Nathan stepped in, his presence filling the room. The air seemed to thicken around him.
"You read that?" he asked, voice low, controlled.
I shook my head, heart hammering.
"Good," he said, though there was a sharp edge to his tone. "Curiosity can be dangerous here. Remember that."
And then he left, shutting the door with a precision that made me jump.
I sank onto the bed, my thoughts racing. The night stretched ahead like an endless shadow. I knew I could not trust him, yet… there was something magnetic in his control, something that made me feel alive even as I trembled.
Somewhere deep in my chest, I realized the truth I dared not speak aloud: I was already caught.
And my nightmare had only just begun.