CHAPTER 4

SASKIA POV

The dining room table was absurdly long. I sat at one end, staring at a plate of seared salmon and asparagus that I was too stressed to eat. Evander sat at the exact opposite end, a glass of dark red wine beside his plate, his attention focused entirely on his tablet. The only sound in the room was the occasional clink of his fork against the porcelain and the steady patter of rain against the glass.

It had been three days since I moved into the Sinclair mansion. Three days of absolute silence. In public, or when the house staff was around, Evander treated me like an inconvenient chore left behind by a dead friend. He barely looked at me.

"If you're just going to push your food around the plate, Saskia, you can be excused," Evander said without looking up from his screen.

I dropped my fork. It made a loud clatter. "It's hard to eat when the atmosphere feels like a funeral."

Evander finally set his tablet down on the table. He took a slow sip of his wine, his dark eyes locking onto me across the long stretch of wood. "You have a comfortable room, three meals a day, and a roof over your head. If you find my home suffocating, you are free to leave. Of course, Victoria will be thrilled to take your inheritance."

I clenched my fists under the table. "You know I can't leave. Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what, exactly?"

"This!" I stood up, gesturing between the two of us. "Acting like you don't even know me. Acting like you didn't..." I paused, glancing toward the door where Mrs. Gable was stationed just down the hall. I lowered my voice, leaning over the table. "You know what happened at *The Vault*. Why are you lying to everyone?"

Evander picked up his napkin, calmly wiping the corner of his mouth. He stood up, towering at his end of the table. "I don't know what happens in your head, Saskia. But in reality, I am your guardian. Nothing more."

"You're a hypocrite," I whispered bitterly.

He didn't answer. He just picked up his tablet and walked out of the dining room, leaving his half-finished wine behind.

By 10:00 PM, the house was completely dark. I couldn't sleep. My mind was spinning, and the thirst in my throat was becoming unbearable. I threw off my blankets, wearing only a thin, silk slip dress, and crept out of my bedroom. The hallways were cast in shadows, illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the windows.

I made my way down to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of ice water, and leaned against the cold marble countertop.

"It's past your curfew," a voice rumbled from the darkness of the doorway.

I gasped, nearly dropping the glass. Evander was standing there. He had discarded his suit jacket and his tie. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his strong, vascular forearms. He held a crystal glass with a finger of bourbon.

"I was thirsty," I said, my voice shaking slightly as I set the glass down. "I didn't know getting a glass of water was a crime."

Evander walked slowly into the kitchen. The soft amber light from the open refrigerator cast long shadows across his sharp features. He stopped right in front of me, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. The scent of woodsmoke and bourbon filled my senses, making my stomach do a dangerous flip.

"The rules apply at all hours, Saskia," he murmured, his gaze dropping slowly down to my silk slip dress, which clung to my skin. His eyes lingered on the exposed skin of my collarbone before snapping back to my face.

"You're doing it again," I said, my breath catching in my throat. I didn't back away. I couldn't. "You're looking at me the exact same way you did that night. Why do you pretend when the doors are closed?"

Evander set his glass down on the counter right next to mine. The click of the crystal against the marble sounded incredibly loud in the quiet kitchen. He leaned in, trapping me against the edge of the counter.

"Because in the daylight, I have a kumpanya to run and a promise to keep to your father," Evander whispered, his voice rough, dropping into that low baritone that made my knees weak. "But right now? It's dark. And you are standing in my kitchen, wearing next to nothing, asking questions you don't want the answers to."

"Try me," I challenged, my heart hammering against my ribs. I reached out, my fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. "Tell me you don't remember."

Evander grabbed my wrist. His grip wasn't painful, but it was tight, completely firm. He pulled my hand away from his chest, but he didn't let go. His dark eyes burned into mine, the icy professional mask completely shattering.

"I remember everything, Saskia," he growled softly, stepping even closer until his chest pressed against mine. "I remember the sound you made when I touched you. I remember how perfect you felt under me. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

My breath hitched. "Then why—"

"Because if anyone finds out, you lose everything," he interrupted, his thumb brushing against the racing pulse in my wrist. "Your stepmother is waiting for us to make a mistake. One photo, one rumor, and you are on the street with nothing. I am protecting you."

"By torturing me?" I asked, looking up at his lips.

Evander let out a sharp, dark laugh. He let go of my wrist, only to cup the side of my face, his fingers tangling in my hair. He tilted my head up. "You think this is torture for you? You have no idea how hard it is to sit across from you every day and pretend I don't want to drag you onto that table."

Before I could say another word, the heavy swinging door of the kitchen creaked.

"Mr. Sinclair? Is everything alright in here?" Mrs. Gable’s voice called out from the darkness of the hallway, followed by the sound of her approaching footsteps.

Evander didn't panic. In a fraction of a second, his face went completely blank, the heat vanishing from his eyes as he stepped back into the shadows. He picked up his glass of bourbon just as the older woman walked through the door, a flashlight in her hand.

"Everything is fine, Mrs. Gable," Evander said, his voice instantly shifting back to that cold, distant tone he used during the day. "Miss Beaumont was just getting some water. She was just on her way back upstairs."

Mrs. Gable looked between the two of us, her eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion, before she lowered her flashlight. "Of course, sir. Goodnight, Miss Beaumont."

I looked at Evander, but he was already staring at the wall, ignoring my existence entirely once again. I picked up my glass, turned around, and walked out into the cold hallway without saying a word.