Stay Where You Are

Amara Cross POV

“I like your long black hair… Amara.”

His voice was husky, deep, wrapped in quiet masculine authority. His words slid into my ears like a soft, velvet confession. My heart slammed hard against my ribs. Not butterflies. Dinosaurs. Wild ones, jumping inside my stomach.

A shy smile curved my lips before I could stop it. Heat rushed to my cheeks. I noticed his hair, still wet, shining under the kitchen light. Childish curiosity tugged at me.

“Mr. Dorian… why is your hair wet like that?”

He watched me closely, as if carving my features into his memory, then said calmly, “I was out running. When I came back to grab a bottle of water… I found that the sleeping princess had finally woken up from her coma.”

His hand slid over my arm, rough yet gentle, down to my thighs resting on the marble counter. Then he stepped back with measured steps.

I breathed out slowly, watching his broad back. His muscles moved in smooth harmony as he pulled out eggs, toast, and strawberry jam. I was about to climb down when his sudden voice pinned me in place.

“Stay where you are.”

I ignored him and lowered my feet to touch the cold floor. In a flash, he turned, grabbed my thighs, and lifted me back onto the counter like I weighed nothing.

“Stubborn,”

he said, looking straight into my eyes.

I gasped. “Why are you so determined to make me sit like this… like a child waiting for her milk?”

I crossed my arms over my chest in protest while he went back to making breakfast with sharp focus.

“What time is it, Mr. Dorian?”

I asked, annoyance creeping into my voice. The hard stone beneath me was starting to hurt.

“Seven thirty,” he answered without turning around. I stared at his back, tracing the tattoos wrapping around his muscles, my eyes shooting imaginary lasers through his skin.

“It’s still early…” I muttered, swinging my legs in boredom.

“What are you doing, Mr. Dorian?”

I tilted my head, trying to see what his hands were busy with. He cracked eggs into a bowl and whisked them with ease.

“Making you breakfast.”

Warm prickles spread over my cheeks. I hugged my arm and rubbed it shyly. “What do you mean, for me? Not for us? I’m not used to eating breakfast alone…”

He finally turned. His hawk like eyes cut straight through my nerves. “I’m not used to eating breakfast. But I won’t send you to university without food. That’s not who I am.”

I laughed softly, waving my hands to shake off the sudden stiffness in my body. “Mr. Dorian is truly noble…”

He bent to pick up the pan I had almost smashed over his head earlier and cleaned it.

I hopped down from the counter to wake my legs and followed him to an elegant table. He placed a plate in front of me, the smell of fresh omelet filling the air. Toast and the red strawberry jam I loved sat beside it. He settled for a single cup of dark black coffee.

“Mr. Dorian… didn’t you say you don’t eat breakfast?”

He took a sip of coffee and set the cup down calmly. “I always drink coffee. Just not at this hour. Only because you said you don’t like eating alone.”

He watched me chew. When I noticed his gaze fixed on my full cheeks, I swallowed everything at once and choked.

I started coughing hard, pounding my chest. He handed me a glass of juice quickly. I drank it all in one go until my breathing steadied.

“So… you’re drinking coffee now because of me? That’s… nice.”

I smiled wide. He replied with controlled coolness. “You could call it a small gesture. To make sitting at the table feel less lonely.”

His phone rang. He grabbed it and stood, walking to a far corner. Curiosity won. I tiptoed after him like I was on a spy mission.

“Yes… alright… of course, I’ll bring it.”

He turned suddenly before I could escape. I grabbed my face in panic and whispered, “What do I do?”

“What will you do?”

His voice sounded right behind me.

My heart jumped. I pressed a hand to my chest. “I just… wanted to ask where the bathroom is.”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Second hallway on the right.”

He headed out to the garden. I entered the elegant bathroom and stared at my reflection. “Oh God. I look pale.”

I splashed my face with cold water, let my hair fall freely, slipped on my shoes, then went out to the garden to find him.

Suddenly, my mouth went dry. Blood froze in my veins.

Right in front of me stood a massive Doberman, chewing a bone with terrifying force. I tried to step back. I stumbled. When the dog turned toward me, my legs felt like solid ice.

It took one step toward me.

I ran inside with everything I had. The dog chased me, tongue hanging out, like I was his next meal.

I crashed into something solid.

I looked up. Dorian.

Without thinking, I jumped into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, climbing him like a rescue tree. His hands landed on my ass to steady me. I did not care.

“It’s a dog. Big. Black. Mean. A Doberman. It wants to eat me.”

I screamed, trying to climb higher on his chest.

“Where are you trying to climb? Do I look like a tree?”

His voice was sharp as he tightened his grip to keep balance, pulling a small moan from me.

“He’s calm. Friendly. He has never attacked anyone… unless I give him the order,” he said reassuringly.

I studied his face from this dangerous closeness. His breath. His scent. He was distracting enough to make me forget the dog.

“I bet he just wanted to play with you.”

“Go away,” I shouted at the dog, who seemed to enjoy my misery. Then I said softly to Dorian, “Can you tell him to leave so I can put my feet on the ground?”

“Bam, Fuori!”

I gasped. “Oh… what language is that?”

The dog left instantly. Dorian kept staring at me with sharp, tempting eyes.

“Guess.”

I was about to climb down, but he tightened his hold on me.

“I think… Italian?”