Chapter Five

The rain had fallen through most of the night, thin and cold, tapping lightly against the glass panes. By morning, mist curled around the mansion like a shy creature reluctant to lift its veil. Tiana pushed open her window, letting the chill morning air sweep across her face and arms. The sea below was still, a wide grey sheet stretching into the distance. Calmer than yesterday, almost pretending innocence.

She wasn’t fooled.

Ever since she stepped into Ross Lynch’s island, she felt watched – by the waves, by the walls, and most of all, by Ross himself.

She tied her hair into a quick ponytail and slipped out into the corridor. The mansion was unusually quiet. A perfect time to get her head straight.

Or try to.

The kitchen smelled of warm bread and the familiar comfort of simmering oats. She grabbed a small tray and walked out into the eastern garden – the only part of this island that didn’t feel hostile. The stone path was slick with dew, the hedges trimmed back neatly. Ross’s money was everywhere, arranged into symmetry. Imposing and meticulous.

She sat on the garden bench and exhaled.

By now, she should be used to it – unpredictable employers, strict rules, subtle judgment. But Ross had a way of unsettling her without even speaking.

Especially yesterday.

Her cheeks still warmed at the memory of his sharp words and the way he had shifted, however briefly, into something almost… human. After his warning, something in her had cracked open, letting out a strange concern she clearly wished she hadn’t accepted.

She took a bite of bread, lost in thought.

A throat cleared behind her.

She jolted, nearly dropping her tray. Ross stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his charcoal-grey trousers, white shirt sleeves rolled up just enough to show muscled forearms. His tie hung undone around his neck.

He looked nothing like the polished, unshakeable figure she’d met her first day.

“Mr. Lycan,” she managed.

His gaze briefly flicked to the tray. “Breakfast outside? Didn’t take you for the type who enjoys cold mornings.”

“I didn’t want to disturb anyone inside,” she replied, heartbeat quickening. “And the garden is quiet.”

Ross stepped closer, his shoes crunching softly against gravel. “You’re avoiding the others.” It wasn’t a question.

She stiffened. “Not intentionally.”

He hummed, expression indecipherable. “You don’t strike me as someone who does things unintentionally.”

What was that supposed to mean?

She looked away. “I’m just trying to find my place here.”

“You’re already doing better than half the people I’ve hired,” Ross said, voice low. “Including some who lasted less than a week.”

She swallowed. Mark’s warning flickered in her mind. Ross dismissed workers as easily as others changed clothes. His standards were impossible. His temper, worse.

“You didn’t come down for breakfast,” she said quietly.

“No.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Couldn’t sleep.”

She blinked. A crack. Another tiny one. He didn’t seem the type to admit to something so… ordinary.

He caught her expression and his brows knitted. “Don’t read into it.”

“I wasn’t,” she lied.

Ross’s eyes moved over her face, searching, maybe scrutinizing, maybe something else. Then he noticed a faint bruise on her arm from all the work around the mansion.

His jaw tightened. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “It’s barely sore.”

He stepped closer – too close – and took her wrist before she could react. His fingers circled lightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her heart slam into her ribs.

“It’s not nothing,” he said. “You should’ve told someone.”

“Why?” Her voice trembled. “So I could be dismissed for being incompetent, or perhaps, inconvenient?”

His eyes snapped up to hers, sharp with offense. “I’m not that unreasonable.”

“People talk,” she murmured. “And not in a good way.”

“People exaggerate.”

She lifted a brow. “Do they?”

A muscle ticked in his cheek. Tiana couldn’t tell if he was irritated by her boldness or by the rumours themselves.

Probably both.

He released her wrist slowly, almost reluctantly. “Take care of it. If it gets worse, tell me.”

“I assumed you’d prefer distance between us,” she allowed the words slip.

Something flickered across his features – surprise, annoyance… and something else entirely. “I prefer efficiency,” he replied. “Anything that affects your work concerns me.”

Of course. Efficiency. Work. Nothing deeper. Nothing more.

Still, her pulse was unsteady.

Ross seemed equally unsettled, though he disguised it better. He stepped back, clearing his throat. “There’s a meeting later,” he said. “A few island committees reached out about the annual Unity Festival. It’s held between this island and the two neighbouring villages. A cultural event, apparently.”

“You’ve never attended?” she asked.

His laugh was soft and humourless. “No. Festivals aren’t my thing.”

It was the first time she heard him make an attempt to laugh though. As dry as it was, it still made her feel closer to him. “Why not?”

He gave her a flat look. “Because I don’t enjoy noise. Or crowds. Or strangers.”

“Or people?” she added quietly.

He paused.

For a moment the air thickened – heavier, denser, charged.

His voice was quieter when he spoke. “Not most.”

Her breath hitched.

He hesitated. “The point is, this year they want a representative from this estate. I can’t send my personal assistant, Linda – she’s terrible with social events. Mark is too blunt.”

“And me?” she whispered.

“You’re… new,” Ross said, as if that explained everything.

She waited.

“And you’re steady,” he added. “Calm. People respond to that.”

Tiana stared, stunned. Was that a compliment?

Before she could form words, he continued, “The festival will be in about a week. I want you to attend the planning reception with me. Just observe. Learn the expectations.”

“Me?” Her voice cracked. “Why me?”

His gaze softened – barely perceptible, but real. “Because you see things others don’t.”

Her heart did a strange somersault.

“You’ll get an official invitation,” Ross went on, stepping back. “Wear something comfortable. The meeting won’t be formal.”

“I don’t have any fancy clothes,” she confessed. “Just my uniforms and a few regular dresses.”

“That’s fine.” Ross’s eyes lingered on her a heartbeat too long. “You look presentable in almost anything.”

She froze.

He froze.

Silence filled the garden, thick as wet soil.

Ross suddenly cleared his throat, averting his eyes. “I meant… appropriate. Professionally.”

“Of course,” she murmured, heat rushing to her face.

His ears had gone faintly pink.

Ross Lycan. Embarrassed. She almost smiled.

Almost.

He regained his composure with visible effort. “There’s work to be done today. Linda will have the schedule. I’ll be in my office.”

She nodded in understanding.

He started to walk away, then stopped with his back to her. “Tiana.”

She straightened. “Yes, sir?”

His voice carried a quiet intensity that tightened something inside her. “Be careful who you listen to here,” he said. “Not everyone sees clearly.”

She knew exactly what he meant. “Are you referring to Mark?” she asked.

His shoulders tensed. “I’m referring to anyone who thinks they’ve understood me.”

She swallowed. “Have they?”

He hesitated. Then, without turning, he answered, “No.”

And then he walked away.

*

Work passed slowly after that – routine organizing, sorting estate documents, ironing clothes, ferrying files between offices. But all through the day, she kept replaying Ross’s words.

You see things others don’t.

You look presentable in almost anything.

Not everyone sees clearly.

By evening, she was restless.

The mansion felt different. Warmer. Or maybe she was imagining it.

As she passed the hallway leading toward Ross’s study, she heard muffled voices through the half-closed door. Her legs slowed involuntarily.

Ross was inside with Linda, discussing something heatedly. Linda’s shrill tone pierced the corridor.

“…she’s new, sir! She won’t know how to behave at such a gathering!”

Tiana froze.

“You’re underestimating her,” Ross replied thinly.

“She’s inexperienced,” Linda insisted.

“And you are overstepping,” Ross said, voice dropping to a cold warning.

Silence followed.

Then Linda spoke with forced calm. “Very well, sir. But if she embarrasses the estate—”

“She won’t,” Ross cut in. “That’s final.”

Tiana’s chest tightened. She moved away quietly before they could notice her shadow by the door.

He was defending her. Why? Why was he doing that? Protecting her, praising her, insisting she accompany him to a festival he clearly despised?

She needed air.

Walking out to the balcony overlooking the shore, she gripped the railing and watched the waves roll in slow, steady currents. A soft breeze brushed her hair.

Mark approached from behind, steps slow and hesitant.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded, though she wasn’t sure.

“I saw him passing earlier,” Mark murmured. “Mr. Lycan. He didn’t look like himself.”

She glanced at him. “And how does he usually look?”

Mark’s mouth pulled into a sad half-smile. “Less… conflicted.”

Conflicted. The word fit too perfectly.

Tiana looked back at the sea.

“Just be careful,” Mark added quietly. “Ross has shadows he doesn’t show anyone.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I don’t think he’s as heartless as people make him out to be.”

Mark studied her face, something unreadable flickering through his eyes. But he only said, “Maybe.”

Then he left her alone with the evening breeze.

Tiana stayed until the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky deepened into indigo.

Somewhere in the mansion behind her, Ross moved through rooms with silent steps, carrying secrets like heavy chains. And she couldn’t escape the feeling that those chains were drawing her closer, no matter how hard she tried to keep her distance.

The festival was coming. With it, something unnamed, something dangerous, something intoxicating, something neither of them was ready for loomed near.