Chapter Six: The Other Side Of The Door

Work passed slowly after – 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.”

Tiana looked back at the sea. Conflicted. The word fit too perfectly.

“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 neither of them was ready for loomed near.

*

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.