FOUR : OLIVIA

OLIVIA

After the whole sneaking-like-a-thief scene, I retreated into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me like I could lock my thoughts out with it.

I leaned against the sink for a moment, staring at my reflection. My cheeks were still warm, eyes a little too alert, like I hadn’t slept enough—or like I’d been caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to. Which, in a way, I had.

Nothing had happened.

And yet everything had.

I turned on the shower and got under it letting the water soak me completely, hoping it would wash away the lingering awareness crawling under my skin. It didn’t. If anything, it sharpened it.

Pulling open the closet again felt surreal. Rows upon rows of clothes stared back at me—perfectly arranged, color-coordinated, untouched. Dresses that looked like they belonged at galas. Blouses too elegant for someone who still felt like she was pretending to belong here. Shoes I was almost afraid to touch.

I sighed.

“I just want something normal,” I muttered.

But nothing here was normal.

After a few minutes of indecision, I grabbed a pair of jeans and a maroon top—simple, safe, familiar. I styled my hair loosely, minimal effort, minimal thought. Or at least I tried. Every movement felt deliberate, like my body knew something my mind was refusing to admit.

Once dressed, I took a deep breath and left the room.

This time, I didn’t get lost.

The house was quiet in that expensive, controlled way—no cluttered sounds, no chaos. Just soft footsteps, distant murmurs, the low hum of a place that ran smoothly because people like Alfred made sure of it.

When I entered the dining room, I froze.

Only Adrian was there.

He sat at the long table, dressed in a camisole that was tight around his body, the image of him in the pool flashed in my mind again. He looked relaxed, a cup of coffee rested near his hand, steam curling lazily into the air.

For a split second, I considered turning around.

But that would be ridiculous.

“Good morning,” I said quietly, taking the seat across from him.

“Morning,” he replied.

His eyes lifted to mine.

And stayed there.

It wasn’t intense in an obvious way. No smirk. No expression. Just that calm, unreadable gaze—like he was assessing something he didn’t quite understand yet.

Did he know?

The thought made my stomach twist.

I broke eye contact first, focusing instead on the table in front of me.

The spread was overwhelming.

Pancakes stacked neatly, waffles dusted lightly with sugar, fruits cut and arranged like artwork, scrambled eggs. There were jars filled with different drinks—orange, something green, something pink. Cereals in glass containers, milk chilled beside them, syrups lined up like options in a luxury café.

How many things do they expect me to eat? I wondered.

I reached for a plate, trying to appear casual, and served myself a small portion—pancakes, eggs, one waffle, it looked too beautiful to ignore, some fruit, and a glass of orange juice.

I took a bite of pancake. It tasted incredible. Soft, warm, rich.

“Wow,” I said before I could stop myself.

His lips twitched. Then he smiled.

"Good?"

"Amazing." I cut up a piece of waffles and ate that too. Wow, everything was just so amazing. I just kept eating.

That was when I noticed how silent the surrounding was. I looked up to see Adrian staring at me with a smile on his face.

The eggs I was chewing almost went down the wrong hole as I tried to swallow. I coughed, covering my mouth to avoid spitting out everything that was in my mouth.

I coughed harder, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.

Adrian was on his feet instantly.

“Easy,” he said, voice calm as he reached for a glass of water and slid it toward me. “Slow down.”

I grabbed it, my fingers brushing the cool glass as I took a few quick sips, willing my lungs to behave. My cheeks burned—whether from the coughing or from the way he was standing so close, I couldn’t tell.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, clearing my throat. “Just… went down the wrong way.”

His gaze lingered for a second longer than necessary, like he was making sure that was true, then he sat back down.

Silence settled again, thicker this time.

I focused fiercely on my plate, suddenly very aware of how much food I’d already eaten. I stabbed a strawberry and chewed slowly, as if concentrating hard enough would make the moment disappear.

“So,” I said, mostly to fill the space, “does the food always look like this?”

His eyebrow lifted slightly. “Like what?”

“Like it belongs in a five-star hotel,” I replied. “Or a photoshoot.”

He smiled again, and my heart skipped a beat. "The chef takes pride in his work."

"I can tell." I murmured looking down at my plate. "Hopefully I don't get too fat."

He laughed making me look at him, like really look. He looked so handsome as he laughed.

Be still, my heart.

I finished everything on my plate and sat back, trying to digest the food I had practically inhaled. Maybe I should take a walk.

"Do you want me to show you around?" Adrian asked. I looked at him for a second, then I said "If I'm not bothering you."

"Not at all." he smiled "We could also take your car out for a spin and I will show you the way to your school, since your first day is next week."

After breakfast was completely over, Adrian stood first, pushing his chair back with an ease that made it look effortless.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you around.”

I hesitated only a second before standing. “Okay.”

We left the dining room side by side, the silence between us no longer awkward—just charged. The hallway stretched wide and bright, sunlight pouring in through tall windows that framed perfectly manicured gardens outside. Everything felt intentional. Designed. Even the quiet had structure.

“This place is…” I trailed off, unsure which word could possibly fit.

“Too much?” Adrian supplied, glancing at me.

I laughed softly. “That’s one way to put it.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “You get used to it.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

He started with the east wing. The floors beneath our feet were polished marble, cool even through my shoes. Artwork lined the walls—abstract pieces, landscapes, portraits that looked old enough to have stories of their own.

“This is mostly for guests,” he explained, gesturing as we passed a series of closed doors. “People my father does business with. They don’t stay often, but when they do… everything has to be perfect.”

Of course it does, I thought.

We moved into a massive living area that opened into what looked like a private resort. Floor-to-ceiling glass revealed not one, but two pools outside—one sleek and modern, the other curved and surrounded by lounge chairs and palm trees.

My breath caught.

“Oh my God.”

Adrian chuckled. “That reaction never gets old.”

“There are two pools,” I said, incredulous.

“One’s for laps. The other’s… well, for show.”

I swallowed, my mind flashing—unhelpfully—to the image of him in the pool the night before. Water on skin. Muscles moving beneath—

I cleared my throat. “Of course.”

He didn’t look at me, but I could’ve sworn his smile deepened.

We walked past sliding doors that led directly outside, then into what he called the game room. It was enormous. Pool tables, arcade machines, a poker table, even a sleek bar tucked into one corner.

“Do you actually use all of this?” I asked.

“Sometimes,” he said. “When friends come over. Or when I need to blow off steam.”

I imagined him here late at night, sleeves rolled up, frustration bleeding out through competition and silence.

It suited him more than I liked.

Next came the home theatre.

The lights dimmed automatically as we entered, revealing rows of plush seating, each one wide enough to curl into. The screen took up the entire wall.

“This is insane,” I whispered.

“Movie nights are mandatory,” Adrian said lightly. “According to my dad.”

I smiled at that—something warm and almost normal slipping through.

Then the gym. Spacious. Fully equipped. Spotless.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many machines in one place,” I said.

Adrian shrugged. “It helps keep things… balanced.”

I glanced at him. “You work out a lot?”

His gaze flicked to me, unreadable. “Enough.”

The library came next—and it stole my heart.

Tall shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with books of every kind. Leather chairs sat near large windows, sunlight spilling across wooden floors. It smelled like paper and quiet.

I stepped inside like I was entering a sacred space.

“This is my favorite room,” I breathed.

“I figured,” Adrian said softly.

I turned to him, surprised. “You did?”

“You looked like someone who loves to read, spend time in a quiet space.”

The words landed deeper than he probably intended.

I looked away quickly, suddenly feeling seen in a way that made my chest tighten.

We continued through hallways that felt endless—offices, sitting rooms, indoor garden spaces—until my head was spinning. The mansion wasn’t just a house. It was a world. One I wasn’t sure how to exist in yet.

Eventually, we found ourselves back near the front entrance.

“Well,” Adrian said, checking his watch, “that’s most of it.”

“Most?” I echoed.

“There’s more,” he admitted. “But we’ll save it.”

For later.

The unspoken implication lingered.

We stepped outside, the warm air wrapping around us as we walked toward the driveway. Two cars sat there—both sleek, both expensive. Mine looked untouched, waiting.

Adrian stopped beside his car and looked at me. “Ready for that ride?”

I nodded, heart doing something reckless in my chest. “Yeah.”

As I reached for the door, a strange certainty settled over me.

This wasn’t just a tour.

It was the beginning of something I didn’t yet have a name for.

And somehow, deep down, I already knew—

Whatever it was, it was going to be impossible to stop.