CHAPTER 3 : WRONG FEELINGS

ENID'S POV

"You fucking smell of grass, Bumpkin."

The words were harsh, but the raw, hostility behind them was unmistakably, terrifyingly real.

A fresh wave of anger, hot and coiling, coursed through me, as I curled my fingers till it turned white.

Twelve months!

The number echoed in my skull like a death sentence. This man wasn’t just an obstacle to be managed, he was going to be utter, unadulterated hell for me.

The car made a smooth U turn, cutting off my thought as it swung through a grand, gate entrance and made a hault stop in front of a magnificent modern building. Then the engine died, leaving a silence that was somehow louder than the city’s hum.

Alexander was out of the car first, not even a glance back at me as he stood impatiently on the pavement, a dark presence against the building. I took a steadying breath, the cool night air doing little to soothe the heat under my skin, and I followed, my eyes tracing the stark, intimidating lines of what was to be my prison.

"Let's go, Bumpkin. Or haven't you seen a real mansion before?" he snapped, his voice cutting through the dead night silence.

Not this arrogant motherfucker again!.

I bit down on the retort boiling in my throat, as I simply grabbed my briefcase and followed him inside.

The penthouse had a breathtaking view, but felt isolating and sterile. It felt empty, despite its size, and a gilded tomb for my freedom.

The first face I saw confirmed it all, I would be a special kind of hell.

A woman, presumably Alexander’s mother, Rosa, stood in the middle of the vast living area. She was dressed in sleek, costly fabrics, she exuded a frosty elegance.

"Oh, my sweet boy, how was the trip?"She asked, as she moved toward Alexander, cupping his face with a familiarity that excluded everyone else in the room, her gaze sliding over me as if I were part of the furniture.

"It was stressful," Alexander said, stretching his neck with a theatrical groan. "I need a good sleep."

On a low-slung sofa, was a teen girl and a man close to my age were engrossed in their phones, their fingers tapping screens, utterly indifferent to my arrival.

Just as Alexander moved toward the staircase, a voice came up, low and laced with absolute authority, stopped him cold. "Don't you dare, Alex. Get your ass down here, we are having dinner together."

I followed the sound, and my gaze landed on Kane David.

I knew him from countless corporate profiles, the patriarch. The one who held the real power here. The one who could make or break this farce.

The room's atmosphere changed instantly as Alexander's posture shifted from relaxed to tense. The air became thick with tension, and it was clear that everyone was intimidated by him and this sudden change revealed his powerful presence and the fear he commanded.

Everyone was afraid of him?

Interesting!

"He said he needed to rest, David," Rosa interjected, her attempt to get involved thin and transparent.

"Where did you learn to be so impartial, Rosa?" David’s voice was deceptively calm, but it carried a weight that silenced the room. "Can't you see the young lad standing there? Where are your manners?"

A faint, entirely involuntary smile touched my lips.

So that’s how the land lies?

Rosa’s eyes flashed with a bitterness that she quickly smothered, forcing a tight smile. "I was just about to greet him…"

"Quit the shameless act, Rosa and let's eat," David thundered, turning on his heel and marching toward an archway.

The two on the sofa finally looked up, exchanged a silent, wary glance, and followed Kane like scolded children. Rosa and Alexander fell in line, and I brought up the rear, like a lone wolf reluctantly joining the pack.

We ate in silence, and the only sound the clinking of forks, spoon's and Knives.

"How was your journey down here , Enid?" David asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

I heard Rosa’s soft, irritated hiss from across the table, but she was the least of my concerns.

"It was fine, thank you. I’m… glad to finally be here," I said, the lie tasting like ash, in my mouth.

"You are welcome to this family. And I hope we’ll all have a pleasant time together during your stay," David replied, his eyes holding mine for a moment longer than necessary, a silent acknowledgment of the game we were all playing.

Just as I lifted my fork, to continue eating the teen girl spoke, her voice dripping with bored contempt. "Why the fuck do you look like a farm boy?"

The silence that followed was instant and icy, and I slowly set my fork down, the metal clicking against the plate. Then my gaze locked onto her, my pulse thrumming with a cold fury.

I was already crafting a reply that would flay up her entitled attitude raw, before David intervened.

"I think that’s enough for tonight," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Alexander, why don’t you show Enid to his room."

The dismissal was a bucket of cold water on my anger, and I merely nodded, pushing my chair back. "Thank you for dinner."

I followed Alexander’s stiff back out of the dining room, down a wide hallway lined with abstract art, then he stopped at a door, then shoved it open, and stepped aside with a contemptuous sweep of his arm.

"This is your room, Bumpkin."He said.

The taunt sparked my anger.

I stepped across the threshold, my movements deliberate, and turned to face him, as the door swung shut behind me, enclosing us in the spacious, neutrally decorated room.

"It's Enid," I said, my voice low, and my every muscle coiled tight with the effort of control.

He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, a picture of feigned nonchalance, but I didn’t miss the subtle tension in his own stance. "Oh? I thought it was 'farm boy'."

A dry, humorless chuckle escaped me, as I took a step forward, and then another.

I closed the distance between us until I was standing right in front of him, close enough to see the faint stubble along his jawline, to smell the faint, expensive scent of his cologne cutting through the sterile air. He swallowed, a tiny, almost imperceptible movement. He was trying so hard to project boldness, but I could see the flicker of something else behind the arrogance.

Uncertainty?

Wariness?

"You lack manners," I spat, the words barely a whisper yet ringing in the quiet room.

He refused to back down, tilting his chin up in a defiant challenge, his eyes glinting. "And you smell of grass and hay, Bumpkin!."

Maybe I was wrong after all.....