THE MANSION

My phone buzzed before the sun was even fully up.

For a second, I thought it was Z again.

But no — the message was from Slate.

Be here by noon.

Bring your essentials.

That was it.

No greeting, no punctuation, no emotion.

Just orders.

I stared at the message, exhaling sharply.

Noon. Essentials.

Which basically meant: You’re moving in.

I leaned over to show it to Mira, who was stuffing her face with cereal like the world was ending, spoon clacking aggressively against the bowl.

She squinted at the message… then glared at me like I was the problem in her life.

She cleared her throat dramatically. “Let me get this straight…” she said, pointing her cereal spoon at my forehead like a weapon. “You’re moving into a stranger’s house? A man you barely know? A man you haven’t even SEEN? All for money?”

I nodded. “Yup.”

“Yup?” She repeated the word like it physically offended her. “YUP? Aaron, have you lost your entire mind or is this just a part-time delusion?”

“It’s a job,” I insisted.

“It’s a cult,” she fired back.

“It’s professional.”

“It’s suspicious.” She crossed her arms. “And weird. And shady. And exactly the kind of thing you see in crime documentaries.”

I rolled my eyes and took the cereal box from her. “Relax.”

“No! I will NOT relax!” Mira jumped up, nearly knocking over the bowl. “Who is this man? Why is he rich enough to own a mansion but secretive enough that no one knows his face? And why does he want you specifically?”

“That last part feels personal,” I muttered.

“It IS personal!” She pressed a hand dramatically to her chest. “What if he trafficks you? What if he harvests your organs? What if—”

“Mira, rich people do not harvest organs. They buy them the normal rich-people way.”

She stared. “…That does not make me feel better.”

I sighed and grabbed my bag. “I signed the contract. It’s too late.”

Her eyes widened. “YOU SIGNED—AARON!”

“He pays more in a week than the club pays in a month,” I said firmly.

Mira looked like she was about to start speaking in tongues.

“Aaron, baby, sweetheart—money does NOT fix being murdered.”

I laughed, even though my heart was doing backflips and spirals. “Slate gave me the terms. They’re strict but fair.”

“Strict but fair,” she mocked. “This is how every horror movie starts.”

I zipped my bag. “Look, I’ll be fine. I’ll call. I’ll text. I’ll—”

“You'd better FaceTime me,” she demanded. “Not call. Not text. FACE. TIME. So I can see with my own two eyes that you are alive and not… chopped into decorative cubes.”

“Mira—”

“I SAID. DECORATIVE. CUBES.”

I grinned despite the knot of nerves tightening in my stomach. “You watch too many shows.”

“And you don’t watch enough!”

She groaned, dramatically flopped onto the couch, and covered her face with a pillow. “I can’t believe I’m losing my best friend to a mansion of secrets.”

“You’re not losing me.”

“Then why do I feel abandoned, like a Victorian lover being left at the docks?”

I threw a pillow at her.

She caught it and hugged it to her chest. “Just promise me something.”

I paused. “…What?”

“Don’t fall for him.”

My lungs stalled.

“…What? Fall for who? Slate?”

“No!” She threw the pillow back. “The mystery man. Zayden. Whoever he is.”

I shrugged casually even though something inside me tensed. “I haven’t even met him.”

“Exactly!” she shouted. “That’s worse! Falling for someone you’ve never seen is peak disaster energy.”

“I’m not falling for anyone.”

“Good.” She pointed at me again. “Because emotional damage is expensive. And I know you. You fall for men with mystery, danger, and cheekbones sharp enough to stab you.”

“I do not!”

“You SO do.” Mira narrowed her eyes. “And this man sounds like he invented cheekbones.”

I let out a breath and slung my bag over my shoulder. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“You better be.” She walked me to the door, stuffing something into my hand. “Take snacks. Rich people forget normal humans have to eat.”

“Mira—”

“And if he tries anything—blink three times fast. That’s the emergency signal.”

“You are not serious.”

“I AM ALWAYS SERIOUS ABOUT KIDNAPPING PREVENTION.”

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

“You BETTER.”

As I stepped outside, she yelled after me:

“IF HE DOESN’T FEED YOU, COME HOME!”

I waved without looking back—because if I did, I might lose my nerve completely.

The closer the car got, the quieter my thoughts became.

The city blurred past, each turn tightening my stomach.

By the time the gates of Z Mansion appeared, glowing beneath the noon sun like black marble dipped in gold—

I wasn’t breathing right.

Slate stood by the door again, impeccably dressed, unreadable as ever.

I stepped out, clutching my bag.

“You’re on time,” he said. “Good. Follow me.”

No welcome.

No small talk.

Just orders.

Just silence.

I swallowed and followed him inside the towering mansion again, my footsteps echoing off polished floors.

Slate walked ahead, hands behind his back.

“Your quarters are ready. You are expected to keep them clean. Meals are prepared at 7am and 6pm. Anything outside that schedule is at Z’s discretion.”

“Understood.”

“You will complete tasks as assigned daily. Cleaning, organization, basic maintenance. No questions unless necessary.”

“Okay.”

“And remember,” he added, glancing at me, “Z sees more than you think.”

That did not help my nerves.

We reached a door, Slate opened it, and there it was—my new room.

Clean. Minimalistic. Beautiful.

Like a hotel suite designed by someone who disliked warmth.

“This will be yours,” Slate said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I nodded, stepping inside. “Thank you.”

Slate turned to leave but paused at the door.

“If you have questions… now is the only time to ask.”

My heart beat too fast. “Will I meet him today?”

Slate’s expression didn’t move. “No.”

My stomach dipped.

“Oh. Okay.”

“You will meet him when he decides it. Not before.”

“Right.”

“Unpack, dinner is by seven,” he said. His tone was flat.

“Dinner,” I asked 

He didn’t respond, he just walked out.

Things were Formal and scheduled over here.

I unpacked the little things I brought arranging them around and changing the decorations of the room.

It was too plain, by the time I finished it was almost seven.

I took my bath and dressed up in black leather pants, a silk backless top, I’d been saving this dress for when I go on a date I might as well wear it now.

I sprayed my YSL perfume, recoiled my hair, and went outside.

Slate stood outside my door, The moment his eyes met mine, his breath hitched.

“I guess you don’t know where the dinner table is,” he said 

“I don’t know where anything is,” I responded 

“I’ll take you on a house tour tomorrow” he replied 

“Isn’t that a little too much?” he said 

I looked at him from head to toe and a look that screamed “really” 

He held out his hand for me to grab it and I did 

“Such a gentleman,” I said 

The dining room looked like it was from a movie. The chandelier that hung over it glowed beautifully. The table was set filled with food, and I wondered when he had the time to do all that.

We started eating couldn’t help but think when I get to see the boss I mean I deserve to know some things.

“You’re expected to observe discretion,” he said with the wine glass at the edge of his lips. 

“Yeah, you have mentioned that before, I’m discreet. I said taking a piece of roasted duck.

“You’re a lot of things,” he said his gaze lingering for too long.

“Really, what I’m I then? I asked stuffing a huge chunk of meat in my mouth.

“Talkative,  observant,  hot,” he said 

The last part made me raise my head.

I leaned back into my chair I mean I was Hot I know.

“Wow,” I said teasing him 

“I’ll be in touch, Mr Aaron. Also, breakfast is by eight” 

His tone was professional.

He pulled his chair back and rolled up his sleeve, revealing his tattoo.

I held myself back from tracing his tattoos

“I have tattoos too you know,” I said, standing up.

I turned my back revealing my sculpted Arabic writing tattoo running down.

“Hmm,” that was the only thing he said before walking out the door.

“Goodnight Slate, I’ll be expecting you, I said.

He spared me a glance before the door clicked shut.