"Looks like you need some help there."
The painting obscured my view, so I didn't realize it was a man until his rich, husky voice flowed into my ears from behind me.
I tilted my head to the right and my gaze landed on the sculpted, exquisite features of a very handsome stranger.
He was easily over 6 feet tall, with sharp, masculine features - eyes that crinkled becomingly at the corners and a head of perfectly tousled black hair.
An air of quiet confidence and self-assuredness radiated from him in waves that were utterly breathtaking.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
"Leave it, I'll carry it for you," he stated firmly in a way that was authoritative and wouldn't take no for an answer.
There was something about his demeanor that both irritated and intrigued me.
And because I've always detested being ordered around or having my capabilities underestimated, I immediately objected with a shake of my head.
The sweaty strands of hair that had escaped my bun tickled my cheek. "It's okay, I can carry it alone, thanks. It's not that far between the sidewalk and the house."
Even as I said it, I knew I was being stubborn and foolish.
He didn't remove his hands from the frame, making it clear he was ignoring my refusal.
"It wasn't a request, little one," he said with a hint of danger that made my heart skip a beat despite my annoyance.
His sharp gaze roamed over me in an admittedly flattering way that made the back of my neck grow warm.
I huffed out an annoyed breath and dropped my end of the portrait, allowing him to take the full brunt of its weight.
"I'm not little, thanks. I'm a grown woman, not a child!" My voice came out more grumpy than I intended, making me wince internally.
He allowed his dark eyes to slowly scan over my petite yet womanly figure from head to toe with an unmistakably appraising look.
I saw the corner of his mouth quirk upwards in a way that was both infuriating and oddly charming when his stare finally met mine again.
"Where are your parents to let you carry a large painting this size all on your own? That's a job for the hired help, not a tiny thing like you."
Did this arrogant prick just call me ‘a child’?
For the first time in what felt like ages, I raised my chin proudly, refusing to be cowed or shamed by his condescending remarks.
A fire I thought had been extinguished long ago flickered to life inside me. "I am the lady of this house, not some helpless child who needs supervision!" The words came out with more force and conviction than I'd managed to muster in months.
He turned to face me fully then. His sapphire eyes locked with mine as he peered down at me deeply, seeming to see straight into my soul.
His gaze was as piercing and fathomless as the night sky, making me feel exposed and vulnerable under its intensity.
I found myself holding my breath… feeling caught in the magnetic pull of his presence.
"I really did think you were just some adolescent kid at first glance," his deep voice rumbled through the spacious foyer. "Your petite stature and youthful features are quite... deceiving."
He set the large portrait down next to the beige sofa, and the elaborate gold frame stood out sharply against the living room's subdued hues.
I watched him with annoyance and reluctant admiration, still unable to decide if I was more irritated or intrigued by his candid, unfiltered manner of speaking.
There was something refreshing about his bluntness, even if it did seem rude at times.
"I'm not the type who enjoys superficial compliments," I muttered, mostly to myself but loud enough for him to hear.
My fingers toyed nervously with the hem of my blouse as I added, "I don't like people thinking I have the body of a pre-pubescent child."
His eyebrows rose slightly at my words and a flicker of something – amusement? interest? – passed through his eyes.
"Is that so?" he mused, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that made my skin tingle. "Well, I can assure you that on closer inspection, you most certainly do not have the body of a child."
I felt my cheeks flush hot at his bold statement, unsure how to respond.
To cover my embarrassment, I grabbed the edge of the heavy frame to steady it, worried it might topple over now that he had let go.
My hand brushed against his larger one in the process, and I felt a jolt of electricity zinging through my body at the contact.
But I didn't pull away, finding myself oddly reluctant to break the connection.
"Well, thank you for helping me with this," I said sincerely, meeting his intense gaze once more. "I would've had a hell of a time moving it all by myself. Richard – my husband – he's always too busy at the hospital to help with things like this."
We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. The air became thick with some indescribable tension.
His expression remained unreadable. It gave no hint as to what he was thinking or feeling in that moment.
I wondered what it would be like to see genuine emotion cross those sculpted features – to see him smile or laugh without restraint.
His fingers lightly grazed the back of my hand as he pulled away from the frame. "No need to thank me," he said finally.
I wasn't sure if the lingering touch was intentional or not, but it sent another delightful tremor racing down my spine. "It's what neighbors do, isn't it? Help each other out?"
"Is that what we are? Neighbors?" I was surprised by my own boldness.
The stranger’s lips quirked up in a small yet breathtaking smile. "For now," he replied cryptically. "Who knows what the future holds?"
With that, he turned to leave.
His long strides carried him swiftly towards the door. "Have a good day then," he called over his shoulder, not bothering to look back.
We didn't exchange any further pleasantries as he headed out, and the heavy front door closed behind him with a soft thud.
However, I got the distinct sense that our interaction, albeit brief, had been refreshingly genuine – devoid of the usual social niceties and falsehoods that often colored first meetings between strangers.
I approached the large bay window overlooking the circular driveway, unable to resist watching as he made his way to his car.
His sleek black Lamborghini sat gleaming in the late morning sun.
I observed as he slid gracefully into the driver's seat and the powerful engine roared to life moments later.
My mind kept replaying our encounter as the expensive vehicle pulled away and disappeared down the winding road out of our exclusive neighborhood.
My first impression was that he seemed like a cool, calm, and collected yet extremely dangerous man. But in an intriguing, positive way, not an off-putting one.
There was a depth to him, a complexity that hinted at hidden layers beneath that polished exterior.
Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I turned away from the window and surveyed the chaos of half-unpacked boxes and misplaced furniture surrounding me.
“There is still so much to do to make this house feel like a home!”
For the next few hours, I threw myself into the task of cleaning and organizing.I carefully hung up my and Richard's clothes in the spacious walk-in closet, trying not to dwell on how my modest wardrobe barely filled a quarter of the available space.My husband's designer suits and expensive shoes, on the other hand, seemed right at home in such luxurious surroundings.Evening approached.I decided to take a break from unpacking and do some baking instead.Cooking had always been a source of comfort for me, a way to center myself when life felt chaotic or overwhelming.I spent the next hour or so in the gleaming gourmet kitchen, losing myself in the familiar rhythms of measuring, mixing, and folding.The result of my efforts was two batches of my signature cakes – one a rich chocolate fudge, the other a delicate lemon poppyseed.As they cooled on the marble countertop, filling the air with their tempting aromas, I carefully packed them into decorative boxes I had bought specifically
Minnie returned rather quickly. She set a plate of cookies on the coffee table between us, smothered her short white sundress, and plopped down next to me in a casual, friendly manner."I was planning to visit your house a little later after the twins came back from daycare to officially welcome you to the neighborhood," she said with a friendly laugh. "But you beat me to it! I'm so glad you did, though."My eyes widened in astonishment at her words. "Twins? You're...you're a mother?" I sputtered out, feeling a bit foolish for my surprise.I tried to reconcile the image of this youthful, vibrant woman before me with that of a mother of two.Minnie giggled audibly. "Why do you look so shocked? Do you think motherhood isn't suitable for a woman like me?" She arched one finely sculpted eyebrow teasingly, but there was no malice in her tone.I waved my hand in denial, flustered and trying to backpedal. "No, no, that's not what I meant at all! I just... you look so young and..." I trailed
I could sense a hint of... envy or resentment in Minnie's tone.She hugged her arms dramatically, unable to contain a slightly exaggerated shiver. "Even their way of dealing with people and socializing is completely different from normal folks. The Blackthorn couple were called the Ice Duo by society's elite circles. Can you believe that? Who would want such a chilly nickname?"She looked at the small cake she had placed on the table earlier with clear pity in her gaze as if even the dessert might wilt under the Blackthorns' frosty demeanor."You'll have to go over there and officially greet them after leaving my house," Minnie said with a warning edge that made me sit up straighter. "It's expected in our little community. But don't feel too afraid of my words about them. It's not like they'll actually devour you or anything!"She attempted a small laugh that sounded forced and did little to ease the sudden knot of anxiety in my stomach.I swallowed nervously, and my mouth suddenly dr
The imposing manor's exterior lights flickered on, illuminating the well-kept grounds with a welcoming, cozy glow.I squared my shoulders, determined to make a good first impression. After all, first impressions could be everything, and who knew what intriguing secrets lay behind those doors?I politely introduced myself to the woman who spoke through the smart doorbell's intercom system and then passed through the gates with measured, unhurried steps.The distance between the entrance and the manor itself was vast, but the immaculately landscaped grounds and winding pathways made for a pleasant, almost zen-like stroll.As I approached the impressive main entrance, I was greeted by a striking woman clad in a knee-length black tuxedo dress that hugged her curvy frame to perfection.Her dark hair was styled in elegant curls that brushed just past her shoulders, and I instantly deduced that this poised beauty could only be the elusive Mrs. Blackthorn herself."Mrs. Blackthorn?" I venture
The sun was starting to set, illuminating our peaceful neighborhood street with long, golden shadows when I arrived home.I fumbled with my keys while juggling the grocery bags I'd picked up after my visit to the Blackthorns before finally managing to unlock the front door.I headed straight inside, kicking off my flats by the front door and heading to the kitchen.The house still smelled faintly of fresh paint and new furniture, a reminder that we'd only moved in only a few hours ago.I entered the kitchen and immediately set about preparing dinner. My movements were automatic like I had been programmed to perform this ritual without fail.Our kitchen had a charming balcony overlooking the backyard and the neighborhood behind our new house.The fading sunlight filtered through the half-open blinds, throwing long shadows across the tiled floor.Whenever I turned to look out the window to my right, I couldn't stop myself from staring at the Blackthorn manor towering majestically in the
Richard’s eyelids twitched in annoyance at my thinly veiled jab, and I knew from months of experience that he didn't like it when I subtly called out his shortcomings or mistakes.His face flushed an ugly shade of red, and a vein pulsed at his temple."You're only good at complaining and nagging, my God," he spat, slamming his briefcase down on the kitchen table. "Your shrill, whiny voice alone gives me a pounding headache. I don't know how I've put up with you and your mindless griping all these months. Sometimes, I think I should have listened to my mother and never married you in the first place."He pulled a chair from the kitchen table roughly and sat down heavily. The wood groaned in protest under his weight.He sat there expectantly, like a scolded child waiting to be served, not even offering to help set the table or get his own drink.I angrily punched the air behind him, imagining my fist connecting with his thick skull.The fantasy was so vivid I could almost feel the satis
I could visibly see the intense anger rising in his body from his tightly clenched fists, the protruding veins in his thick neck, and his rapidly reddening face.His whole muscular body seemed to tremble and vibrate with unbridled rage at my defiance."You've really done it now. You got yourself into this mess with your smart mouth," he growled out in a low, menacing tone full of quiet threats that sent chills through me..I barely had time to make out his muffled words when he suddenly shot up from his chair with such force it toppled over backward.In an instant, he was on me, grabbing a painfully tight fistful of my long hair and giving a vicious yank that made me cry out.My hands flew up to try on reflexes and pry his painfully clenched fingers off of the handful of my hair he had wrapped around his meaty fist."If you've forgotten who's the goddamn master of this house, I'll have to violently remind you of your proper place beneath me," he snarled in my face, his foul breath hot
Every single time in the past when he had raped me while I was out cold and defenseless, I'd wake up naked, my clothes stripped off, and sprawled across our bed in a tangle of sheets.My whole body was utterly shattered, every muscle aching and bruises already forming.But worst of all was the hollow, empty feeling in my heart - like a piece of my soul had been violently ripped away.Despite the trauma, I just went about my daily routine as if nothing had happened, as if it was just another normal day in my personal hell.I dragged myself to the bathroom and stepped into the shower, scrubbing away at my skin with scorching hot water and a loofah until it was raw and pink.I was trying to wash away the lingering traces of last night from my body, the ghostly sensations of his rough hands groping me and his sweat and bodily fluids.But no amount of scrubbing could erase the memories seared into my mind.Once I was finally clean, I threw on a simple casual outfit, a short brown cotton dr