Amara woke up to a silence that didn't feel quite right.
For a moment, she didn't know where she was. The sheets were too soft, the air smelled faintly of cedar and something darker, smoke… maybe. Her eyes scanned across the unfamiliar room before memory came flooding back.
Right. Her rich boss's house.
She sat up slowly, a hand pressed to her temple. The faint ache that ran through her body reminded her of what happened. She hissed under her breath and rubbed her arm.
Her gaze drifted toward the window, heavy curtains drawn to block out the light. She swung her legs over the bed and curiosity tugged at her. She pushed herself up, walked toward the window, and drew the curtains open.
The view was enough to make her forget the dull pain for a second. The estate stretched far and wide, green and silent, with a cluster of dark trees hugging the edge of the hill. For someone who lived her whole life in cramped apartments and broken streets, it felt like standing inside a dream.
She exhaled softly. "What do I have to do to live in a place like this?"
Let's get rich first, Amara.
When she turned back toward the room, her jaw dropped a little. The place looked like something out of a magazine or reality show. Everything was neat, symmetrical, and maybe a little too elegant for someone like her.
She crossed her arms, half amused and half terrified. "Don't touch anything," she muttered to herself. "If it breaks, you'll have to sell your organs and you'll hate it if you ever have to live with one kidney."
Her gaze caught the small wall clock above the dresser. Three p.m. Her eyes widened. "Three?!" she blurted, half laughing. "What the hell did that doctor give me, a tranquilizer dart?"
Ok, wow. It had been a while since she woke up this late.
A sharp knock startled her and she went to open it. "Yes?"
Felira stood there, her posture graceful as always, hands clasped in front of her. "Good afternoon, Lady Amara. I hope your rest was adequate."
Amara sighed. "Miss, I told you, you don't have to call me that. It sounds like I've married into royalty."
She just smiled softly. "I'm afraid I can't, Miss. My duties require me to address guests properly."
"Guests?" Amara repeated. "Right. Sure. Let's go with that."
Before she could say anything else, another maid came rolling in a clothes rack, an actual rack, full of neatly arranged outfits. Dresses, blouses, coats, even shoes.
Amara blinked. "Whoa, whoa, hold on. What is this?"
Felira stepped aside as if presenting a royal collection. "Mr. Dravik instructed us to provide you with some clothing options."
"Options? This looks like a boutique," Amara said, voice rising. "You didn't have to… I mean, I could've just washed my clothes from last night."
Felira's expression softened. "I'm sorry, but your clothes were already disposed of. They were torn and stained beyond repair."
Amara gasped. "Disposed? But I could've fixed them! I can sew, you know."
Felira looked almost apologetic. "Please forgive me, Miss. It was an order."
Amara pressed her lips together, trying not to sound ungrateful. "Right. His house, his rules." She let out a sigh, walking toward the rack.
The clothes were… surprisingly her taste. Comfortable, casual, simple. It felt like Darien himself had a good taste or he knew her taste. She ran her hand along a soft hoodie and a pair of jeans and smiled despite herself. "I'll take this one."
Felira nodded. "A fine choice."
After she freshened up, insisting, quite stubbornly, that Felira not help her this time like last night, Amara followed her down the hall. The scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread greeted her long before they reached the dining room.
When she stepped in, her jaw dropped again.
The dining table looked long enough to host a small conference. Soup, bread, roast, fruit, things she couldn't even name. "Is this all... for me?"
Felira nodded. "Mr. Dravik had the kitchen prepare it in case you woke up hungry."
Amara stared at the mountain of food. "Hungry, yes. Starving army, no."
Felira's lips twitched. "Please, eat to your heart's content."
With a half-shrug and a low grumble about "rich people logic," Amara sat and began to eat. The food was too good to resist anyway. Warm soup, tender meat, sweet pastries, she hadn't eaten properly since… well… never actually.
"Where's Mr. Dravik, by the way?" She asked after swallowing a slice of roast duck.
"He has not returned home yet," Felira answered politely.
By the time she finished, she was comfortably full and a little sleepy again. Felira then led her back to the guest room where her bag already on the desk.
"My bag!" Amara jumped a little after when she saw it. She had already thought she'd lost it for good in that basement.
Felira smiled. "It was found and cleaned. Mr. Dravik wanted to ensure your belongings were returned."
For a moment, something unfamiliar squeezed at her chest. Gratitude, maybe. Or guilt. Probably both.
She ran her hand over the strap. "Thank you."
Felira only bowed and left her to rest.
After that, she spent the rest of the afternoon trying to convince herself she wasn't nervous. She should leave, right? Once Darien came home, she'd thank him properly and go. It would be rude to vanish without saying goodbye, but staying too long here felt… weird. Not in a bad way, exactly. Just… complicated.
The door creaked open before she could decide which word fit better.
Darien stood there, framed by the fading sunlight. His presence filled the room instantly in an unsettling way that made people lower their voices around him.
He smiled faintly. "You're awake."
Amara blinked. "Ah… yeah. Good afternoon, Mr. Dravik."
He stepped closer. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. Still sore, but nothing dramatic."
"Good," he said simply. "I'm glad."
There was a pause, long enough for Amara to notice how his gaze lingered. Not in a strange way, well, maybe a little, but like he was checking every part of her to make sure she was still there, still breathing.
"We need to talk," he said finally.
"Talk?"
"Yes. About that night. And last night."
Her pulse skipped. "Oh… right. About the, uh, incident that night. Please, you don't have to worry. I already told you, I'm not going to tell anyone." She forced a laugh, waving her hands. That you're not a human.
Darien's expression didn't change, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
"A-and last night. You fought back in self-defense… it's completely fine, I swear. I'm the last person who'd want trouble with the police, trust me. If anyone asks, I'll swear you were attacked by... I don't know, rabid raccoons or something."
Amara kept rambling. "Really, sir, I didn't even see much. Okay, I saw some, but I don't even know what I saw. You were just… uh… very fast and maybe a little bit scary, but that's fine, totally normal for a man who… "
"Amara," Darien interrupted. "That's not what I meant."
She froze. "Oh."
He knows my name.
"It's not about the men," he continued, taking a slow step forward.
Her eyes darted toward the window. "Is that… oh my God, what's that outside?" she said quickly, pointing, hoping to distract him the same way she did before.
Darien didn't even blink. "I won't fall for the same trick twice." His tone carried a faint amusement. "But nice try."
She dropped her hand with a nervous laugh. "Worth a shot."
He stopped just a few feet away, close enough that she could feel the faint warmth radiating off him. Heavy, somehow. Darien's gaze didn't waver, and the longer he looked at her, the more her pulse seemed to misbehave.
Amara swallowed hard. "I-is… there something on my face?"
Instead of answering, he reached out. His fingers brushed her chin, tilting it up slightly. It was barely a touch, but her heart racing anyway.
Amara's heart leapt into her throat. Her breath hitched as if her lungs suddenly forgot how to work. Her mind screamed at her to move, step back, or to say something, anything… but her body didn't listen.
She could feel his skin against hers. Warm, steady, and terrifying.
Don't move and everything will be fine.
Oh, but her heart didn't listen either. It pounded, faster and louder, until it drowned out everything else.
She prayed silently, begging her treacherous heart to calm down, but it didn't listen.
Not one bit.