Chapter Six

The next morning dawned with a pale, hesitant light. The sea was restless, its waves slapping the cliffs with irritated persistence, as if the ocean itself sensed the shift happening inside her.

Tiana awoke before her alarm, her thoughts already circling the same man – the same contradictions, the same unsettling pull. She pressed a hand to her chest, annoyed at the way he lingered there, like a bruise that wouldn’t fade.

Ross Lycan.

She was starting to hate how easily her mind drifted to him, or maybe she hated that a part of her didn’t hate it at all.

She dressed quickly and moved down the hall, the mansion still half-asleep. The corridors were dim, the chandeliers cold and unlit, sunlight barely scraping through the tall windows. Dust motes floated lazily in the quiet. Everything felt suspended, waiting.

Waiting for something she didn’t understand.

When she reached the kitchen, Alma was already at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled like coconut and herbs.

“You’re up early,” Alma said without turning, her tone warm.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Hmm.” Alma gave a pointed sigh. “This place does that to people.”

Tiana wanted to ask what she meant, but she suspected the answer was Ross. In one way or another, everything here circled back to Ross, and she didn’t want to look too eager.

“I’ll sweep the entryway,” she said instead.

Alma nodded. “Go on, my dear.”

*

The front hall was a cavern of polished stone and sharp echoes. As Tiana swept, she found herself glancing toward the sweeping staircase more often than she meant to.

Ridiculous.

She didn’t need him to appear. She didn’t want him to. But every soft footstep from the upper floor made her shoulders tense with anticipation. She told herself it was nerves – nothing more. She was new, he was her employer, and she had every reason to be wary. But the more she tried to rationalize it, the more her thoughts tangled around him like vines around a pillar.

The way he watched her. The way he avoided her. The way he warned her – as if she mattered.

Why would a man like Ross Lycan bother warning anyone about anything?

She exhaled sharply and swept harder. The broom bristles scratched the floor with frustrated force until a low voice cut through the empty hall.

“Angry at the dust?”

She froze.

Ross.

She didn’t turn right away – afraid he might see the way her breath caught. Finally, she forced herself to face him.

He was at the base of the stairs, dressed in a charcoal shirt rolled to his elbows, the faintest shadows underlining his eyes, making him look even more dangerously compelling. He watched her the way one watches an unpredictable flame – fascinated, cautious, drawn in spite of himself.

“No,” she managed. “Just… thinking.”

“That much is obvious.”

She stiffened. “Is that your way of saying I look troubled?”

His mouth twitched – not quite a smile, but a shift. “No. My way of saying you look distracted.”

“Is that worse?”

“For someone in this house,” he said quietly, “yes.”

There it was again – the warning. Always the warning.

Tiana set the broom aside. “You keep talking to me like I’m walking toward a cliff.”

His eyes darkened. “Maybe you are.”

“Why do you care?” She regretted the question the moment it left her mouth, but it was too late to pull it back.

Ross stepped toward her – one step, then another – slow, deliberate, like a predator drawing near but unsure if he planned to strike or retreat.

When he stopped in front of her, the air thickened.

“I don’t,” he said. The lie was soft, so soft it almost sounded like a confession.

Tiana swallowed. “Then stop warning me.”

His gaze flicked to her mouth, just for a moment – a fleeting, hungry moment, before he dragged it back to her eyes. “You don’t understand how this place works.” His voice was low, roughened with a tension he seemed determined to hide. “How I work.”

“Then explain it.”

“I can’t.”

“You won’t,” she corrected quietly.

His jaw flexed.

The silence between them vibrated, stretched thin like a wire ready to snap.

“Tiana.” Her name in his mouth sounded too intimate, too careful. “Curiosity is dangerous here. For both of us.”

Her pulse quickened. “Why?”

“Because…” He looked away, as though fighting himself. “Because curious people get caught in things they don’t walk away from.”

Her breath hitched. “Are you warning me about you?”

His shoulders tensed – a tiny, betraying movement. “You should keep your distance,” he murmured.

“But you don’t keep yours.”

For a heartbeat, Ross went still.

Too still.

The kind of stillness that meant something had slipped – control, composure, restraint. She could feel the weight of it between them, pressing into the air like a pulse.

His voice, when it came, was ragged at the edges. “You should go back to your chores.”

She held his gaze, refusing to step back. “I asked you a question.”

His eyes burned. “And I gave you an answer.”

“You avoided it.”

He exhaled sharply, frustration rippling through him like a tremor. “Tiana, you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

She took a single step closer.

Something flickered in his expression – shock, desire, fear – she couldn’t decipher it fast enough.

“Why am I difficult for you?” she whispered.

He closed his eyes briefly, as if steadying himself. When he opened them again, she saw it – another crack. A thin fracture in the armour he wore so relentlessly. “You…” He swallowed hard. “You make me forget things I can’t afford to forget.”

Her heart stumbled. “Like what?”

“That you’re my employee,” he said. “That I shouldn’t look at you the way I do. That I shouldn’t think about you at all.”

Heat flooded her face. “You think about me?”

“That,” he said tightly, “is exactly the problem.”

Her breath trembled out of her. She didn’t know what came over her – maybe curiosity, maybe recklessness – but she lifted her hand, raising it toward him. She didn’t touch him. Only hovered her fingers near his sleeve.

He inhaled sharply, every muscle going taut.

“You’re afraid of something,” she whispered.

His eyes locked onto hers. “Yes.”

“Of me?”

“No,” he said, voice barely audible. “Of what I might do because of you.”

Her lips parted, words failing her. She had pushed him too close to the edge. She could feel it, but something inside her wouldn’t let her retreat. “What would you do?” she asked softly.

The question shattered whatever restraint he had left. His eyes darkened with raw intensity – desire, conflict, restraint battling the urge to close the distance.

He began to lift his hand slowly, as if fighting himself every inch, reaching toward her cheek, her jaw, her—

A sharp throat-clearing echoed behind them.

They broke apart.

Mark stood by the doorway with an armful of firewood, his expression unreadable. “Sir,” he said simply. “Storm’s picking up again. Thought you should know.”

Ross’s expression shut down instantly, freezing over like water turned to ice. “Put it in the storage room,” he replied, already stepping back, the invisible threads between him and Tiana snapping.

Mark nodded, but his eyes lingered on Tiana – not judging, just observing – before he disappeared into the hall.

The moment was ruined.

Ross turned toward the stairs. “Tiana.”

She flinched at the coldness returning to his voice.

“Stay… cautious.” He hesitated – a rare slip. “Please.”

Then he left her standing alone in the vast, echoing hall, her heart pounding, her breath unsteady, and her curiosity burning hotter than it ever had.

*

The rest of the day was a blur. Tiana moved through her duties in a daze, replaying every word, every charged moment, every look he’d given her. She didn’t know what terrified her more. The fact that Ross Lycan wanted her… or the possibility that she wanted him just as dangerously in return.

By evening, the storm had rolled in fully, rain streaking down the windows in silver sheets. The festival preparations would begin soon – Alma mentioned it again over dinner – but Tiana barely heard her.

She stood alone near the window, watching the lightning crack the sky, and whispered to the empty room, “What am I getting myself into?”

The island didn’t answer. But the storm did.

It roared, wild and unrestrained, just like the thing growing between her and Ross.

And she knew, with a tremor of both dread and anticipation, that she would not walk away from it easily.