FIVE

Cassa’s POV

"I don't think you understand; this isn't fair," I said, frustration creeping into my voice. "What about my freedom? Why should it be stripped away from me? Just because Montalvo and Sullivan are close doesn't justify taking my freedom. Saving me shouldn't mean locking me up in here." I gestured around the room, as if it were the cage I was talking about.

His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as he stared me down. "That's life, Cassa. We make sacrifices for our actions."

"A sacrifice? You've turned me into a servant in this house. I wouldn't complain if I still had my freedom. I'll accept the consequences of my actions, but I won't give up my freedom!" I exclaimed, fists clenched tightly and trembling with anger. I refused to agree to his terms.

Julius let out a sarcastic laugh that only made me angrier. "Your life is paid for with your freedom, Cassa," he emphasized, each word sending a shiver down my spine.

"You can't do anything about it," he added in a serious tone.

Outside, the rain poured heavily, the wind howling fiercely and rattling the windows. Leaves whipped from the trees, adding to the storm's cacophony. Each clap of thunder made me tremble, and I couldn’t finish my tasks in the kitchen as I cowered against the counter. The weather had been fine just moments ago; now, it felt like the sky itself was in turmoil. My heart raced, breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Another crack of thunder echoed overhead, and I instinctively closed my eyes, hands covering my ears.

"What are you doing?"

Startled, I opened my eyes to find the Mayor standing in the kitchen doorway. I hadn't seen him in two weeks. He stood there in his crisp coat and tie, his hair damp from the rain, tilting his head as he studied me with a curious expression.

I quickly straightened up and returned to the sink. It wasn't a lavish meal—just something I had prepared for myself and the two guards. I had tried a dish from a recipe book I found in the library, and thankfully, the guards had eaten it without complaint. Their only feedback was that it needed more salt. I was grateful for their company.

At least I had someone around the house to keep me company and stave off boredom. The guards didn't mind when I asked them to pose for photos in the garden, and they always praised my efforts afterward.

"Nothing, just grabbing something," I lied, hoping desperately that there wouldn't be another clap of thunder. I grabbed a sponge from the sink along with a plate.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look pale, and you're shaking," he remarked, though his tone didn’t betray much concern. I could hear his footsteps drawing nearer.

"I'm fine," I replied, forcing cheerfulness into my tone. "I thought I dropped my earring." I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, but I noticed him heading toward the coffee machine by the sink.

His arm brushed against mine, and I inhaled sharply.

"That doesn’t seem like mere earring trouble to me. You looked like you were trembling in fear earlier," he observed, placing a black mug on the coffee machine and pressing a button. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air like roasted beans.

"You must have misunderstood," I deflected, setting the soap dishes on the counter.

But karma seemed to have a lesson for me, as a loud clap of thunder shook the house, causing me to shriek and drop the plate I was holding.

He let out a hearty laugh. "It’s just thunder. Why such a reaction?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing rapidly. It wasn’t just thunder to me; it felt menacing, like a harbinger of danger, filling me with dread.

Tears filled my eyes, and my hands trembled as I struggled to regain my composure. I looked up at him, surprise clear on his face. 

"Yes, it’s just thunder, but not everyone is immune to it," I said, standing up from my crouched position. "I hate it!"

Glancing at the glass window, I took a deep breath and noticed the broken plate near my feet. 

"Okay," he said casually, reaching for the mug handle. 

"I didn't mean to break the plate," I confessed, guilt creeping into my tone.

"It’s just a plate. You can throw it away. Just be careful; I don’t want blood on the floor," he replied before sauntering out of the kitchen. I watched him until he disappeared from view, sighing deeply as I attempted to steady my trembling hands.

The rain was letting up, but my apprehension about another thunderstorm lingered. Carefully, I placed the cracked plate in the garbage and swept up the remaining shards with a dustpan.

My gaze fell on the mug of coffee with milk near the sink, remembering that the Mayor had taken it. I stepped out of the kitchen and found him sitting by the window in the living room, his gaze fixed outside. I noticed the mug in his hand resting on the windowsill.

As I opened my mouth to speak, another thunderclap echoed through the room. My eyes widened, my heart skipped a beat, and I trembled, causing the mug to slip from my grasp. In an instant, Julius caught it, wrapping his arm around my head and pulling me close, his hand gently resting on one of my ears as he pressed my head against his broad chest. Clutching his blue shirt, I stayed there for what felt like an eternity, finding solace in his warmth.

"You should find a soundproof room when it rains. You almost dropped the mug," Julius grunted, pulling away from me. The mug remained secure in his strong fingers, his grip steady.

Heat flooded my cheeks. "I didn’t mean to... It’s just... the thunder..." I couldn’t meet his gaze, embarrassment washing over me.

He sighed and handed me the mug. "Maybe coffee will help calm your nerves."

"It’s not mine... It’s—" I started, but he cut me off.

"I made it for you to calm your nerves. Why don’t you go to your room and come back when the rain and thunder have passed?" he said, his tone more command than suggestion.

Speechless, I accepted the coffee, my hand still trembling, afraid I might drop it. "Thank you," I mumbled shyly, but he had already returned to staring blankly outside.

As I climbed the stairs, I stole one last glance at him. Julius remained still, as if the moment hadn’t happened.

A jolt of panic shot through me when I realized I hadn’t finished washing the dishes, and I was startled to see darkness outside the window. Hastily, I jumped out of bed, ran a comb through my messy hair, and tied it up. Taking the mug from the nightstand, I savored the memory of the creamy coffee on my tongue. I had never tasted anything so delicious; even the most renowned cafes couldn’t compare.

How did he do it? Did he have a special technique? I wondered as I hurried downstairs. Entering the kitchen, I was surprised to find the table set with food. My eyes darted to the sink—it was spotless, with no dishes waiting for me.

Then I noticed Julius at the countertop, opening a drawer and pulling out a can of peanut butter. 

"You’re awake," he said, glancing at me as he closed the drawer with a neutral expression. Turning around, he walked over to the table and set the peanut butter next to the refrigerator.

"I didn’t mean to oversleep and forget to clean the dishes. I’m sorry, I should—”

"It’s done, but don’t forget next time," he interrupted, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Let’s eat." He gestured to the chair across from him.

The aroma of beef steak and fried fish made my stomach rumble, but this was the first time I’d had dinner with him.

"Don’t worry, it’s not human flesh," he added with a grin.

I placed the mug in the sink before taking my seat at the table. The Mayor started eating, and I followed, beginning with the fish and then diving into the beef steak. 

The savory taste exploded in my mouth, and I savored every bite. It was delicious. But who had cooked it? Did he order it from a restaurant? Or maybe a chef had come to prepare this feast?

"Who made this?" I couldn’t resist asking.

"Why? Doesn’t it taste good to you?" Julius replied between bites.

"No, it’s amazing," I said, spearing another piece of steak with my fork.

Julius chewed thoughtfully before answering, "I did."

I stopped eating, staring at him in disbelief. "You did?"

"Can’t believe that? I can cook my own food, you know," he smirked, resuming his meal. "Just because I’m a man?"

"No, it’s not that. I just assumed you hired someone to cook or ordered food online," I explained, noticing that Julius had stopped eating. His gaze shifted to the front door.

"Go to your room, now!" he ordered abruptly.

"Is something wrong?" I started, but before I knew it, he was already behind me, gripping my arm and urging me to stand.

"Now, go!"