What is she trying to do? The question surfaced again, sharper this time, cutting through his thoughts like a blade he couldn't put down.
Kai leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled near his lips, eyes unfocused as his mind began to circle the same dark possibilities over and over. Nothing about Alina fit neatly. Nothing about her presence in his house made sense unless there was an agenda behind it. People did not enter his life without purpose. They certainly did not enter his house without consequence.
Did someone send her?
The thought settled heavily, refusing to leave. It wasn't paranoia—not entirely. It was pattern recognition, honed over years of navigating an industry where smiles hid knives, and loyalty shifted with opportunity. Every move he made was watched, measured, dissected.
Alina's recent stunt proves one thing: she knew precisely what she was doing. Every move was deliberate—she knew exactly how far to push, exactly where to press. That wasn't a mistake; that was a calculation.
If someone had sent her, then the real danger wasn't Alina herself—it was the person who believed she could control him through her.
Kai straightened slightly, the chair creaking under the subtle shift of his weight. His reflection stared back at him faintly from the darkened window—sharp lines, controlled posture, a man accustomed to command. And yet, something beneath that surface had begun to fracture.
But Who? He wondered.
There had always been people who wanted to slow him down, redirect him, derail him entirely. Success bred enemies as reliably as it bred admiration. But stopping him required leverage. Real leverage. And she had it.
"Is she spying on me?" he muttered.
The possibility sent a chill through him. Information was currency. Inside his house lay conversations never meant to leave those walls—contracts, strategies, private vulnerabilities. Access like that was priceless. And she had secured it with one document, one signature, one moment of forced compliance. His fingers tapped once against the armrest, sharp and impatient.
If she is spying, he thought, then she's very good. Too good.
She didn't snoop openly. She didn't ask questions. She didn't linger where she wasn't invited. Instead, she moved like someone who belonged there—comfortable, unbothered, disarmingly ordinary. That, more than anything, unsettled him.
Kai closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. The more dangerous question followed immediately. Who sent her? His jaw tightened as he mentally opened a list he knew far too well. Years in the industry had taught him one brutal truth: enemies didn't always announce themselves. Sometimes they smiled, waited, and sent someone else to do the damage. Forcing his thoughts into order. He began listing names, faces appearing one after another, each carrying a history of conflict or resentment.
The director? The memory surfaced instantly—an office thick with false politeness, compliments that sounded more like conditions. Kai had refused the film without hesitation. Creative differences, he'd said. The director's smile had never reached his eyes.
He hates losing control, Kai thought. But would he go this far? Sending a woman into his personal space wasn't a move driven solely by ego. It required patience. Long-term thinking. Resources.
Another face replaced it. The co-actress? Too close. Too familiar. Always finding excuses to brush against him, to blur professional boundaries. He remembered the moment he'd stepped back, voice calm but firm, refusing to play along. The hurt in her eyes had hardened into something colder almost instantly.
Because I didn't give her what she wanted?
Because I didn't let her cross that line? His lips pressed into a thin line.
Rejection can turn affection into revenge, he acknowledged.
Then the supporting male lead. Ambitious and Bitter. Always watching from the sidelines. The one who had wanted the spotlight, the one who had quietly resented Kai's position. The rumours he had overheard on set. The way the man's smile never reached his eyes.
Because he didn't get the main role?
Because I stood where he wanted to stand? Kai exhaled slowly.
Jealousy is dangerous when paired with opportunity.
The reporter? That one made his fingers curl slightly against the armrest. He had warned him once clearly. A final chance after invasive questions, fabricated headlines, and a story that had almost crossed into the realm of defamation. The reporter had backed off—but only on the surface.
Did he decide to come at me sideways this time? People don't retreat unless they're regrouping, Kai thought.
Then, the most dangerous of all. The informer? That thought froze him completely. Someone close enough to know schedules. Habits. Weak points. Someone who understood how information flowed in and out of his life. Someone who knew exactly where to look—and where not to. Someone with insider knowledge. Someone who understood routines, security gaps, and timing. Someone who didn't need to guess what mattered. Kai's gaze darkened. His hand clenched into a fist without him noticing.
"Someone sent her," he said aloud, voice low and steady. Saying it made it feel real. Inevitable.
The office felt smaller now, the walls pressing in slightly as the implications unfolded.
He stood and began pacing the length of the office, each step deliberate, controlled, as if movement itself could organize the chaos in his mind.
"What do they want?" he asked. "Sending her to my house—of all places."
If it were money, the demand would have already come in. If it were fame, the story would have leaked. If it were revenge, the damage would have been loud and spectacular.
So why inside his home? "What is there in my house?" he murmured.
"Information," he murmured.
"Yes".
"That had to be it."
His mind jumped instantly to sensitive projects—the romance project still under wraps, the one no one was supposed to know details about yet. Contracts. Future collaborations. Personal files. Financial records.
"Access", he thought again. "She asked for access." The realization sat heavily in his chest. She hadn't demanded wealth. She hadn't threatened exposure. She hadn't tried to control him directly. She had placed herself beside him. Inside his routine. Inside his space. Inside the one place he had always considered untouchable.
"What else?" he asked himself. Property? He dismissed it instantly. His assets were protected layers deep. Money? He had enough safeguards to make theft impossible.
"Passwords?" he scoffed quietly. "Cards?"
Another thought crept in, unwelcome but persistent. What if she's a paparazzi?
The memory surfaced again—her camera, the angle, the excuse she'd given too quickly. He had dismissed it at the time and neutralized the situation with practiced ease. But now, with her living under his roof, the stakes were different.
"She's too calm," he said quietly. "Too composed for someone with nothing to hide."
Kai stopped pacing and stared out the window again, the city blurred beneath the glass. His reflection stared back at him, but it felt unfamiliar now—like he was watching someone else.
"You're playing a long game," he thought. "And I don't know the rules."
That unsettled him more than any external threat ever had. Control had always been his advantage. Anticipation is his strength. But Alina operated outside his patterns. She didn't push or pull. She waited and waited, and Kai realized that it was far more dangerous.
His thoughts drifted—unwanted—to her again. The bathroom. The tap. The way her irritation had been genuine, unguarded. The way she'd slipped, the sharp intake of breath before he'd caught her. The moment their proximity had shifted from accidental to undeniable.
"No," he muttered sharply, turning away from the window. Don't confuse distraction with deception. That was the oldest trap in existence.
"She's dangerous," he reminded himself. "Especially because she doesn't look like it."
The memory of the contract flashed again—her confidence, her calm certainty as she'd revealed what she'd done. The realization that she had known he would sign before he himself had. That wasn't a bluff, Kai thought grimly. That was foresight.
He returned to his desk, placing both hands flat against its surface, grounding himself.
"I'll find out," he said quietly. "Whatever you're hiding."
Because no matter how patient she was, no matter how carefully she played her role, everyone made a mistake eventually. And when she did— Kai Arden would be ready.
"Whoever sent you," he thought, staring at the dark reflection in the window, "you chose the wrong way."
Whether Alina was a spy, a pawn, or something far more dangerous— Kai Arden would uncover it. Even if it meant walking straight into the most elaborate trap of his life.