CHAPTER 4 — A Night of Hidden Flames

Night in Alexander Steele’s mansion was different from night anywhere else. It wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t peaceful. It felt alive—like the walls themselves breathed heat and shadows.

Elara sat on the edge of her bed, legs folded, hands clasped. She had been in this room for hours, doing nothing except listening for footsteps and memorizing every whisper of the house. She hated uncertainty, and in this mansion everything felt unpredictable.

A soft knock came on her door.

She froze.

The knock wasn’t loud. It wasn’t angry. But it carried authority—cold, clear, familiar.

“Enter,” Alexander’s deep voice commanded from outside.

Her pulse jumped. She rose immediately and opened the door.

Alexander stood there, wearing a dark shirt, sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms with faint scars that hinted at a violent past. The warm light from the hallway cast shadows across his face, making his expression unreadable.

His eyes swept over her slowly, checking if she obeyed his earlier rules.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“Yes, Master.”

He stepped inside without waiting for permission, making the room feel smaller instantly. His presence always filled the space—hot, heavy, overwhelming.

Alexander scanned the room, his gaze moving from the bed to the window and back to her.

“Good. You kept the room neat.” His voice was low. “I hate disorder.”

“I tried, Master.”

He nodded once, then walked past her. She felt the heat of him even after he moved.

He stood in front of the window, hands behind his back, staring at the night sky. The moonlight touched his face, outlining the hardness in his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.

The silence stretched.

Elara thought she should say something… but remembered Rule One.

Speak only when spoken to.

Alexander finally turned toward her, eyes sharp.

“Come here.”

She walked slowly until she stood just a few steps in front of him. She kept her gaze low, not wanting to break another rule.

“Look up,” he said.

She obeyed.

His eyes locked onto hers—and for one brief second, she saw something unguarded flash through them. Something tired. Something human.

But it vanished as quickly as it came.

“I called you here,” he said, “because I need to test your obedience again.”

Her heart sank. Punishment? But he didn’t look angry.

He stepped forward—so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. “You stayed in your room. You followed instructions. That’s good.”

Her breath shook a little. “Thank you, Master.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said coldly. “Obedience is expected.”

He moved past her again, pacing slowly.

Then he stopped at her side, voice dropping lower—intense.

“Do you fear nights?”

She blinked. The question surprised her. “No… I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Fear at night causes chaos.”

He walked toward the door, gripping the handle, but didn’t open it.

Instead, he spoke again—quietly this time. “You screamed during sleep.”

Elara’s eyes widened. “I… I didn’t know.”

“It wasn’t loud. But loud enough.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “Nightmares?”

She nodded slowly.

His voice tightened. “From the auction?”

Partly. But also from her past. But she only whispered, “Yes, Master.”

Alexander turned around fully. For a moment, something sparked in his eyes—anger, but not at her. Anger at the memory of where she came from.

He hid it instantly.

“Nightmares are weakness,” he said sharply. “But they’re normal. Don’t let them disrupt the house again.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Did I ask for sorry?”

She stopped immediately. “No, Master.”

“Good.” He exhaled. “Learn.”

He looked away, then back at her again. And his tone softened—not by choice, but because something in him cracked.

“If you’re… uncomfortable at night, call the maid on duty.” His voice was rough. “Not me.”

So he did care. Just secretly.

She nodded.

He continued, voice firmer now, correcting himself. “You don’t need anything, do you?”

“No, Master.”

His eyes flickered down to her hands. “You’re trembling.”

She didn’t realize she was. She tried to clasp her hands behind her back to hide it.

Alexander stepped closer—too close. She felt fire rolling off his body.

“Stop hiding weakness,” he muttered. “I see everything anyway.”

His hand lifted slightly—just a few inches from her chin, as if he wanted to touch her and tilt her face up. But he froze halfway, jaw tightening. After a tense second, he dropped his hand, almost angrily.

He turned and walked toward the door again.

“Elara.”

She straightened. “Yes, Master?”

He hesitated.

Then he spoke, voice low, like flames burning quietly.

“If anything happens tonight… call out. I will hear it.”

Her chest tightened. “Thank you, Master.”

He didn’t look at her. “Don’t thank me.”

But she saw it—the softness he was fighting, the flame hidden behind walls of ice.

Alexander opened the door.

Just before leaving, he added quietly, “Sleep. You need strength. Tomorrow will be harder.”

Then he left her with the warm silence of the night and the unspoken truth hanging between them—

He was the fire she should fear.

Yet he was also the fire that might one day protect her.