Chapter 3: HIM

      Seeing him from my window had been one thing. But up close? He was on a whole other level.

I'd only gotten a quick look before, but now, standing right in front of me, he demanded attention just by existing. Not handsome in the pretty-boy way, but the kind of man who made your breath catch without even trying. The kind who didn't need to speak to own a room—just walk in and suddenly the air itself rearranged around him.

Those black almond shaped eyes locked onto me with terrifying focus, the kind that made my skin prickle like he was deciding if he will ruin me. And that face —Christ, it should've been illegal. 

Smooth brown skin pulled taut over razor-sharp cheekbones, lips that looked soft in sleep but were now pressed into a hard line. His jawline—clean shaven and perfect was so sharp I could've papercut myself on it—literally.

His black hair, slicked back perfectly, and mussed like he'd spent the night wrestling with some unsolvable problem, fingers dragging through it over and over.

And his body—God. 

His 6'4 maybe taller—body towered over me, all lean muscle and sweat-slick skin—he certainly just came out from the gym. A tattoo on his left hand curled around his bicep, the way he carried himself screamed power and dominance, like he owned every inch of space around him—which of course he did.

I was gaping— don't know how long but I know it was long enough.

"Done staring?" His voice sliced through the quiet so sharp I actually flinched. "Now tell me who the hell you are."

When our eyes locked, my breath stuttered in my chest — not just from fear, but from the heat simmering under all that anger. There was something raw there, something that made my pulse skitter.

He didn't wait for an answer. Two quick steps and suddenly my back hit the wall hard enough to rattle my teeth. His hands gently grabbed my shoulders—he was being very careful. His breath was warm against my cheek.

"Let's try this again, love," he whispered. "Who Are. You?"

"L-love?" The word came out quickly before I could catch it.

"I—I'm your new caretaker.”

His hands flew off me like I'd burst into flames.

“My what?" He took a full step back. "Fucking Nadia."

I watched, heart in my throat, as he dragged a hand down his face. When those black eyes found mine again, they were ice cold.

"You will be gone by morning." No room for argument. "I don't care what Nadia told you—take the courtesy of staying tonight, but you're out at first light."

Panic clawed up my throat. "Sir, please—I can't leave. I've got nowhere else to go."

"Not my problem."

"My apartment's gone," I whispered. "I'm out of money. This was my last chance."

His expression darkened. "Look her Ms...?"

"Samantha White," I rushed out.

"Ms. White," he said slowly, like my name tasted bitter. "You showing up here changes nothing. I stopped hiring caretakers long ago. And to think I closed the bloody website down—clearly I didn't.”

My stomach dropped.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, voice shaking. "I didn't know. I just—I needed work. When I saw the listing, I jumped at it. I didn't realize—"

"So you knew," he interrupted, eyes narrowing, "and came anyway?"

I nodded weakly. "I just wanted a chance."

The silence was suffocating. Then he leaned in so close, voice dangerously low, I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

"Doesn't change a thing.” His words were quiet but carried the weight of a shout. "You leave tomorrow."

He turned on his heel and walked away before I could beg again.

I stood there, heart pounding heavily against my chest. Every instinct told me to chase after him, to plead my case, but my feet stayed still to the floor—It was like they'd grown roots right through my shoes into the floorboards. My hands opened and closed at my sides.

I'd expected rejection. Just not in one of the cruelest of ways.

The walk back to my room took forever. No sign of Nadia. My stomach growled, but the thought of food made me nauseous.

I collapsed onto the bed, dragging a pillow over my face to muffle the sob that ripped through me.

Meanwhile – Blake’s POV

The phone rang once before she picked up.

"Nadia."

His voice wasn't loud — it was worse. That quiet, icy tone that made her stomach drop.  

"Yes Sir"

"My room. Now." The line went dead before she could reply.  

Nadia let out a slow breath before heading out.

Moments later, she entered his room.

"The audacity, Nadia. It’s your audacity for me," Blake said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. His gaze was piercing. "After all my warnings—you still did this?"

Nadia didn't even blink. "Ah. So you've met the new girl."

"Met her?" His laugh came out harsh. "You went behind my back—again."

He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. "How many times are we going to do this?"

"I'm not trying to upset you sir," she said calmly.

"Really? Because it sure as hell feels like it." He leaned forward. "Do I look like a child to you?

"No, sir."

"Then why do you insist on doing this? I keep telling you—I don’t want caretakers. And yet, here we are." His voice was laced with frustration. "Do you want to get fired too?"

Nadia stiffened her hands clasped tight enough that her knuckles went pale. "I don't want to be fired, sir." Her voice didn't shake, but something in her eyes did. "I've served you loyally for years and I would never betray your trust. But I truly believe Ms. White could be good for you."

Blake scoffed again. "Good for me? In what way?"

"She’s not like the others," Nadia insisted. "She’s different. Just give her a chance. A week. If she doesn’t meet your standards, you can send her away."

Blake's jaw locked so tight his teeth ground together. His fingers tapped out a rapid beat on the desk —tktktk— the sound sharp in the heavy silence. The polished wood was cool under his fingertips, but his palms itched with restless heat.

"And what about you, Nadia?" The words came out harsher than intended, cracking like ice. "How many warnings do I need to give you before you know I'm dead serious, is it until I walk you out that door?"

Nadia didn't even blink. "If that is what you want sir," she said, steady as always, though her fingers now plucked nervously at the seam of her gown. 

"But I'd hoped..." She drew a slow breath, then lifted her chin. That look in her eyes —damn it all—like she still saw the boy he used to be. "I swore to the lady Catherina years ago. That I'd watch over you." Her voice softened. "Even when you don't want to be watched."

Blake spun away slowly, his chair legs screeching against the floor. 

“"Don't," he muttered, suddenly unable to meet her gaze and instead fixing it on the whiskey rings staining the desk because looking at her right now might undo him completely. “Don't bring the past into this."

Nadia took a deep breath. "Just one week, sir. That’s all I ask. If she fails, I won’t fight you on it. But if she proves herself, maybe you’ll finally see that you need someone by your side."

Silence hung between them.

Blake's gaze held hers, the quiet between them growing heavier with each passing second. His chest lifted sharply with that exhale—a rough, uneven sound that betrayed more than his words ever would. 

"For your sake," he finally bit out. “You'd better be right about this."

His jaw worked once before he turned back fully, the sentence hanging in the air between them—part warning, part reluctant concession. The quiet that followed felt thicker somehow, like the whole room was holding its breath.

She walked up to him, her hand hovered near his shoulder before pulling back. "It's alright sir," she murmured, voice warm like a blanket. "Everything's gonna be alright. Just breathe slow now."

A beat passed before he rubbed at his eyes. "I... I'm sorry if I was too hard on you. Didn't mean it."

She shook her head, offering a small smile. "I know and It's fine." Her fingers straightened the edge of his desk. "You oughta get some rest now."

He nodded once, shoulders slumping. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight." Her footsteps barely whispered against the floor as she slipped out…..

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