Tangled Desires

SCARLETT

After a long, silent car ride, we finally arrived at Zayden’s house. The mansion loomed before us, even more magnificent than I remembered. It had been years since I’d last visited. Zayden had always been the one coming to our house, never the other way around.

The mansion was enormous, with tall iron gates, marble steps, and glass windows that sparkled under the moonlight. It screamed wealth and power. A maid greeted us at the door, bowing respectfully.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” Zayden said curtly, already stepping away. His tone was cold, distant, as if he wanted nothing to do with me.

But I wasn’t about to let him slip away that easily. Without thinking, I grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug from behind. His entire body tensed, and I felt his muscles go rigid beneath my touch.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, his voice sharp.

“Thank you… for bringing me here,” I whispered back, holding him tighter.

He pulled away abruptly, turning to face me, his eyes dark with something I couldn’t quite place. Anger? Guilt? Desire?

“Don’t do that again,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Why?” I asked, tilting my head, pretending to be innocent. “Is it because you’re starting to feel something for me?”

His jaw clenched. “Go to your room. Now.”

Before I could push him further, the maid appeared at my side. “This way, Miss Scarlett.”

I followed her reluctantly, glancing back at Zayden. He was already walking away, his shoulders stiff, his hands balled into fists. He was trying to act unaffected, but I knew better. He felt something—he just didn’t want to admit it.

As soon as I entered the guest room, I collapsed onto the bed, my mind racing. Everything felt so overwhelming. My dad was in jail, my house was gone, and now I was living under the same roof as Zayden, the man I couldn’t stop thinking about.

Tears threatened to spill, but I blinked them away. I couldn’t fall apart now. I had to stay strong, had to figure out a way to take control of my life again. But no matter how hard I tried to focus, my mind kept drifting back to Zayden—to the night we spent together.

I could still feel his hands on my skin, his lips on mine…

A shiver ran down my spine, and before I knew it, I was on my feet, heading toward his room. I didn’t care if it was reckless. I needed to see him.

I knocked softly, and when there was no answer, I pushed the door open. Zayden was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, his head in his hands. He looked up when he saw me, his eyes widening in shock.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hissed, standing up.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, stepping closer.

“That’s not my problem,” he snapped.

“I miss you,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I miss what we had that night.”

His eyes darkened, and for a split second, I thought he was going to pull me into his arms. But then he shook his head, taking a step back.

“That was a mistake,” he said, his voice cold. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’re lying,” I said, my heart pounding. “I know you feel something for me. You can’t hide it.”

“Leave, Scarlett,” he said, his jaw tight.

But I didn’t move. Instead, I slowly slid the strap of my dress off my shoulder, letting it fall slightly. “Don’t you like what you see?” I whispered.

His eyes flicked down to my exposed skin, and for a moment, I saw the struggle in his expression. But then he turned away, running a hand through his hair.

“Stop this,” he growled. “Go back to your room. Now.”

Before I could say anything else, he grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me gently but firmly toward the door.

“Enough, Scarlett,” he growled. “Go back to your room.”

I resisted, trying to hold my ground, but he was stronger. He opened the door and nudged me outside, his eyes blazing with frustration and something else—something he refused to name.

“Zayden, please—”

“Goodnight, Scarlett,” he said, and then he shut the door in my face.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the closed door, my heart pounding in my chest. I wanted to scream, to pound on the door until he let me back in. And for a moment, I did.

“Zayden!” I banged my fist against the door, my voice trembling with anger and frustration. “Open the door!”

There was no response. I pounded harder, tears stinging my eyes. “You can’t just push me away like this!”

Still, nothing.

Eventually, my hand dropped to my side, and I let out a shaky breath. He wasn’t going to open the door. He wasn’t going to let me in.

I hated him. I hated the way he made me feel. And most of all, I hated that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop wanting him.

I bit my lip, fighting back tears, and walked away. The door closed behind me, and as soon as I was alone, the tears came. I felt like an idiot. Why did I keep chasing him when he clearly didn’t want me?

I collapsed onto my bed, sobbing quietly, until exhaustion finally pulled me under.

When I woke up the next morning, my eyes were swollen, and my head throbbed dully. I dragged myself out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl staring back at me. She looked lost.

With a sigh, I grabbed a brush and ran it through my tangled hair before heading downstairs.

I hadn’t even made it to the kitchen when I heard voices coming from the living room. I froze, my heart skipping a beat.

“Ah, Scarlett. Good morning.”

I turned slowly, my blood running cold at the sight of the man sitting on the couch.

Vincent.

He smiled at me, that same smug, predatory smile that always made my skin crawl.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

Vincent leaned back casually, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Didn’t you know? Zayden is my father.”