Chapter four

CHAPTER FOUR

FIRST ENCOUNTER.

The estate was alive with suspense, every corner humming with anticipation. Staff moved briskly through the hallways, their sharp footsteps echoing on the polished floors.

Lyra perched on the edge of an armchair in the library, her fingers gripping the leather armrest so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

The high shelves of books offered little comfort as she tried to steady her breathing.

She had sought shelter here to escape the flurry of last-minute preparations, but the energy of the house was impossible to ignore.

Through the slightly open library door, she caught snippets of conversation—maids whispering anxiously, the clink of fine china as the table was set, the low murmur of Mrs. Hargrave issuing orders.

Everyone seemed to be bracing for something monumental.

“Has the suite been aired out?”

“The wine he prefers—did you double-check?”

“Move faster; Mr. Blackwoods doesn’t tolerate delays!”

Lyra pressed her hand to her chest, willing her racing heart to slow.

“It’s just a man, Lyra. A man who happens to own everything in sight, including the roof over your head. Rich, yes. Intimidating, probably. But still just a man. You can handle this... right?”

She remembered Jane’s flippant description of him: cold, distant, and impossible to please. But those words felt vague now, drowned out by the whispered reverence and unease she’d heard from the staff.

Even Mrs. Hargrave, who seemed unshakable, had a tightness around her mouth today.

Lyra smoothed the fabric of her dress for the hundredth time, glancing down at her hands.

She’d chosen a conservative outfit in muted tones, hoping to blend into the background. The last thing she wanted was to draw Ryker’s attention.

But a nagging thought lingered.

“What if he sees right through me?”

Lyra exhaled shakily and shook her head, trying to banish the thought. She had no choice but to face him when he arrived. Until then, she could only wait.

The sound of engines broke the fragile calm. Lyra jolted upright, her pulse spiking as she hurried to the window.

From the library’s vantage point, she watched as a sleek convoy of black luxury cars wound its way up the long driveway.

The first car stopped at the grand entrance, and a driver stepped out to open the rear door. Lyra’s breath hitched as a figure emerged, unfolding himself with a deliberate grace that was almost predatory.

Ryker Blackwoods.

He was taller than she’d expected, his imposing frame cutting an unmistakable silhouette against the fading sunlight. His dark suit was impeccably tailored, accentuating broad shoulders and a lean, powerful build.

Everything about him oozed precision and control, from the sharp line of his jaw to the way his hand casually adjusted the cufflinks on his wrist.

His face was unreadable—a chiseled mask that betrayed nothing. But his eyes… those piercing, coal-dark eyes swept over the estate like a predator surveying its domain.

They lingered on the staff gathered at the entrance, then shifted, almost lazily, to the library window.

Lyra froze as his gaze locked with hers.

It was only for a moment—a fleeting, electric moment—but it was enough. A chill ran down her spine as she felt the full weight of his scrutiny.

“He knows. He already knows.”

She quickly stepped back from the window, her heart pounding.

Downstairs, the staff had lined up in a neat row, their postures rigid as Ryker approached. His footsteps were measured, each one echoing ominously on the stone steps.

“Welcome home, Mr. Blackwoods,” Mrs. Hargrave said, her tone brisk but respectful.

Ryker’s response was a curt nod, his eyes scanning the group without lingering on anyone.

“Has everything been handled in my absence?” he asked, his voice low and even.

“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Hargrave replied quickly. “Everything is in order.”

Ryker’s gaze flicked to the mansion’s towering facade, then back to the staff. His expression gave nothing away, but the air grew heavier, charged with his presence.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, his tone carrying a quiet edge.

He turned and stepped inside, his movements fluid and deliberate. The staff visibly relaxed once he was out of sight, but Lyra wasn’t as lucky.

From her hiding spot in the library, she could hear his footsteps growing louder as he approached.

The library door creaked open, and Lyra’s heart leaped into her throat. She hadn’t expected him to come here, of all places.

For a moment, all she could do was stare as he entered the room. He filled the space effortlessly, his broad shoulders brushing past the doorframe.

“Mrs. Blackwoods,” he said, his deep voice making her skin prickle.

It wasn’t a question.

Lyra scrambled to her feet, smoothing her dress with trembling hands. “M-Mr. Blackwoods.”

His eyes—sharp and calculating—swept over her, taking in every detail. She felt exposed as if he were cataloging her flaws and inconsistencies.

“You seem nervous,” he remarked, his tone neutral but laced with something that felt like amusement.

Lyra forced herself to meet his gaze, though it took every ounce of courage she had. “It’s just… a lot to take in.”

Ryker stepped further into the room, his presence almost suffocating. He stopped a few feet away, his hands slipping casually into his pockets.

“Understandable,” he said. “But I hope you’ll find your place here quickly. I expect competence.”

Lyra nodded, unsure how to respond.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. Ryker tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes narrowing.

“You’ve been quiet since I arrived,” he said. “I would have thought my wife might be a little more… welcoming.”

Lyra’s stomach churned. Was he testing her? Did he already suspect the truth?

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” she managed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I thought you might want some time to settle in.”

Ryker’s lips curved into a faint smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “How considerate.”

Before Lyra could respond, Mrs. Hargrave appeared in the doorway, her expression carefully composed. “Sir, dinner has been prepared. Shall I have it served?”

Ryker glanced at Lyra again, his smirk fading. “I think I’ll eat in my office tonight. Have something brought up.”

Mrs. Hargrave nodded, disappearing as quickly as she’d come.

Ryker’s attention shifted back to Lyra. He studied her for a moment longer, then turned on his heel and walked out of the library without another word.

The moment he was gone, Lyra sank back into the chair, her hands trembling in her lap.

“This was worse than I expected. He’s not cold; he’s ice. And I’m standing on thin shards that are already cracking.”

Ryker Blackwoods had arrived, and her carefully created plan was already unraveling.