Chapter 3: Going Somewhere, Miss Aria

Aria's POV

Where did that memory come from?

I remember when I grew up in the United States. I remembered my fifth birthday party with the lopsided cake; my graduation; my dad's burial; and every detail of my life in New York from the time I was a little girl until now.

So why was my brain showing me something else?

Isabel? I remember the voice again.

"Stop it, Aria," I told myself, standing up.

I knew this job was over. There was no way I could work for a man who looked at me differently.

Alexander Sterling was dangerous and obsessed. He didn't want an architect; he wanted a wife.

I looked around the room, searching for a way out. The windows were huge, but when I walked over to one of the windows and looked down, my stomach dropped.

We were high up, and the ground below was all jagged rocks and crashing waves. The estate was built on a cliff.

There was no escaping through the window.

I ran toward the door again. "Hey! Let me out!" I yelled, banging my fist against the door. "Mr Sterling! You can't do this to me! This is kidnapping!"

No one answered. The hallway was silent.

I paced the room like a caged animal. I wasn't interested in this business deal anymore. I didn't care about the millions of dollars; I just wanted to go home.

I started opening drawers, looking for anything I could use: a phone, a tool, a weapon. I pulled open a small drawer in the nightstand and froze.

Inside was a small, velvet box. My hands shook as I picked it up and opened it.

It was a ring, a blue diamond that looked like a drop of the ocean. It was surrounded by tiny white stones.

The ring looked so beautiful. I admired it, remembering the wedding photo downstairs. This was the ring the woman in the photo was wearing.

I dropped the box like it was hot.

"I have to get out of here," I whispered to myself.

If I stayed here any longer, I felt like this house would swallow me whole. But as I looked back at the mirror, I saw the blue diamond ring again sitting on the table, reflecting the light. It looked like it was waiting for me.

I gripped the edge of the table, holding it tightly until my palm turned red again. I was feeling dizzy and exhausted, but I kept on standing.

……….

I opened my eyes, realising I was lying on the bed with a blanket on my body. I quickly pushed it away, checking my body.

I sighed, holding my chest.

Did that sly fox come into this room?

I quietly stood up and walked toward the door, pressing my ear against it. Nothing, no footsteps, no voices. Just the distant, hungry roar of the ocean against the cliffs.

I reached for the handle, expecting it to be locked, but to my surprise, it turned with a soft click.

This was locked before; how come it was open? Did he forget? Or was this a trap?

I didn't wait to find out. I slipped out into the hallway, my bare feet silent on the cold marble floor.

The corridor was a tunnel of darkness, lit only by the faint glow of the moon through the high windows. Every portrait on the wall seemed to follow me with painted eyes. They all looked like him, serious, powerful, and possessive.

I moved toward the west wing, where I hoped James had taken the others.

My heart was racing, trying to sneak out the house. Left at the grand staircase, past the library, through the gallery….

"Going somewhere, Miss Aria?"

I jumped, nearly tripping over my own feet. I spun around, my back hitting a stone pillar.

Alexander was standing in the shadows of a doorway, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscular forearms.

Ignoring his charming looks, I stood firmly on the ground.

"I’m leaving," I announced. "I’m finding Mila and the guys, and we’re getting out of here. You can't keep us here like prisoners, Mr Sterling.”

He took a slow step toward me. He didn't look angry; he looked exhausted, like a man who had been fighting a war for five years and had finally found the one thing worth winning.

"The gates are locked, the guards are armed, and the nearest town is twenty miles away," he said quietly, stopping just inches from me. I could smell the whisky on his breath.

"So, where exactly do you plan on going?"

"Anywhere but not here," I snapped, trying to push past him.

But he moved faster than I could react. His hand shot out, pinning it against the wall right next to my head, trapping me between the wall and his warm body.

"Why are you so afraid, Isabel?" he whispered.

"My name is Aria!" I shouted, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. "Why can't you get that through your thick head? I’m an architect from New York! I have a life! I’m not some property you can just lock up in a room!"

“Then tell me how you know this house," he challenged, his eyes boring into mine. "You took the shortcut through the west wing. You’ve never been to Sydney before, right? So how did you know the way?

I froze. My eyes darted around, looking confused. How did I know the way?

"I... I just guessed."

"You didn't guess."

For a second, my heart skipped, not pulling away. "That... that was nothing. You’re just gaslighting me."

"Am I?" He reached out, his thumb grazing the line of my jaw, right where the small scar sat.

His touch was making my body feel weak, which I shouldn’t. I should have pulled away.

“I’ve missed you so much, so much that… at one point I almost ended my life. I had no reason to live on but something kept me going.”

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against mine.

"Let me go, Mr Sterling," I whispered, my strength fading the more.

"I can't," he murmured against my face. "I’ve spent five years in the dark. Now that I’ve found the light, I’m never letting it go again."

As his lips were about to contact mine, which I didn't see coming, I raised my hand to push him away, but my fingers stopped mid-air when suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the floor below, the sound of breaking glass and a woman’s scream.

I recognised that voice.

"Mila! "I pushed him back with all my strength.

Alexander’s expression shifted instantly. The soft gaze turned into cold steel. He grabbed my wrist, but this time it wasn't a care; it was a command.

"Stay behind me," he ordered, pulling a small handgun from the back of his waistband.