Nina's POV

★NINA★

The silence that followed Malachi’s demand was heavy, thick with the scent of his expensive cologne and the lingering, sharp smell of the vinegar that had soaked into my dress. I couldn't tell him. Not all of it. How could I explain that a simple black car could turn me back into a terrified thirteen-year-old girl hiding in a closet while her world ended?

"I... I just thought I saw someone," I whispered, my voice cracking. I pulled back slightly, and to my surprise, he let me go, though his eyes remained fixed on mine like he was trying to read the thoughts I was working so hard to hide. "It was nothing, Mr. Malachi. I’m just tired. The sun... and the groceries..."

He didn't look like he believed a single word, but he didn't push. Not yet. He stood up, smoothing out his ruined trousers, his expression unreadable. "Go wash up, Nina. We’ll talk later."

I didn't wait for a second command. I practically scrambled off the couch and bolted for the stairs. But I didn't go to my room. Instead, I bypassed the second floor and headed straight for the large laundry room tucked away near the back of the house.

The laundry room was white, sterile, and smelled of lemon-scented detergent. It was the most "staff-like" place I could think of. I slumped onto a small wooden stool in the corner, hidden behind a mountain of fresh linens. My heart was still hammering against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. I felt humiliated. I had been in this house for only a short time, and already I had fallen apart in front of him. I was supposed to be the help, the stable one for Lila, not a broken girl who needed to be carried inside like a child.

I pulled my knees to my chest, resting my forehead against them. He saw my file, I thought, a fresh wave of panic washing over me. He knows.

The door to the laundry room creaked open. I froze, holding my breath, hoping that if I stayed still enough, I would blend into the white walls.

"You’re a terrible hider, Nina."

Malachi’s voice was low, vibrating through the small room. I looked up to see him leaning against the doorframe. He had changed out of his suit into a simple black t-shirt that stretched across his chest, but he still looked every bit the powerful billionaire who held my life in his hands.

"I’m just doing the laundry," I lied, gesturing vaguely at the piles of clothes I hadn't even touched.

"There are machines for that. And people who aren't currently shaking like a leaf," he said, walking toward me. He didn't stop until he was standing directly over me. He didn't look angry, but there was a stubborn set to his jaw. "You’ve spent enough time hiding today. Come with me."

"Mr. Malachi, I really should—"

"It wasn't a request, Nina." He reached down, his hand wrapping gently but firmly around my forearm. The heat from his skin seemed to jump straight into my blood. "I have a mountain of paperwork that needs sorting. My secretary is off for the day.”

I blinked, confused. "You want me to help with business paperwork?"

"It’s mostly filing and alphabetizing. Even someone with a 'lack of formal education,' as Cynthia put it, can handle that, right?" There was a slight, teasing tilt to his lips, a rare flash of humor that caught me off guard.

I felt a flush creep up my neck. "I can alphabetize, sir."

"Good. Then move."

He led me back to the grand mahogany table in the dining room. It was covered in stacks of folders, spreadsheets, and thick contracts. It looked like a battlefield of corporate data. He pulled out a chair for me—an action so naturally chivalrous it made my heart stutter—and then sat directly beside me instead of at the head of the table.

For the next hour, we worked in a strange, focused silence. He would point to a stack, and I would sort them by date or client name. It was menial, boring work, but I realized quickly what he was doing. He was grounding me. By giving my hands and brain something repetitive to do, he was pulling me out of the panic and back into the present.

"Pass me the ledger," he murmured, his eyes never leaving a contract he was reviewing.

I reached for the heavy leather-bound book at the same time he did. My fingers brushed against the back of his hand—a fleeting, accidental touch—but the effect was like a physical jolt. I pulled back instantly, but he didn't. His hand stayed there for a second longer than necessary, his skin warm and slightly rough against mine.

The air in the room suddenly felt thick, the oxygen disappearing as if the walls were closing in. I looked at him, and for the first time, he wasn't looking at the papers. He was looking at me. His green eyes were dark, swirling with something I couldn't quite name—something that felt dangerously like hunger, mixed with a deep, quiet curiosity.

"Nina," he started, his voice dropping into that dark, velvety register that made my toes curl.

My breath hitched. My hand was still hovering near his, the space between us charged with a static electricity that made the fine hairs on my arms stand up. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and one more word from him would be the push that sent me falling.

"Daddy! Nina!"

The sound of small, pounding feet echoed through the hallway, shattering the tension like a stone through glass. I jumped back, nearly knocking over my chair, while Malachi straightened up, clearing his throat and turning back to his papers with a speed that shouldn't have been possible.

Lila burst into the room, her hair a wild mess, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'm bored! The puzzle is done and now I want to play!"

Malachi sighed, but it was a fond sound. "Lila, we are working."

"Paper is boring!" she declared, slamming her tiny hands onto the table. "I want to play Hide and Seek! And I want Nina to play, and Daddy to play, and everyone to play!"

I looked at Malachi, expecting him to dismiss her, to tell her he was a busy man with empires to run. But instead, he looked at the stacks of paper, then at Lila, then finally at me. A slow, predatory smirk spread across his face—the look of a man who had just found a way to win a game he hadn't even started yet.

"Hide and Seek, hm?" he mused, leaning back. "And what are the stakes, piccolina?"

"If I win, I get extra dessert!" Lila cheered. "And if you win... you get to be happy!"

Malachi chuckled, a deep, rich sound that vibrated in the air. "Fair enough. I accept. But only if Nina plays. It’s no fun hunting only one person."

"I... I should probably finish the filing," I stammered, still reeling from the look he had given me moments before.

"The files aren't going anywhere, Nina," Malachi said, standing up and towering over the table. He looked down at me, his gaze lingering on my lips for a fraction of a second too long. "And besides, I’m curious to see if you’re any better at hiding in the dark than you are in the laundry room."

I felt my face heat up again. "Fine. I'll play."

"Yay!" Lila screamed, spinning in a circle. "Daddy is the seeker! Go to the foyer and count to fifty! No cheating!"

Lila shoved her father toward the hallway. Malachi went, surprisingly obedient, though he tossed one last glance over his shoulder at me—a look so intense, so full of unspoken promises, that I almost forgot how to walk.

"One... two... three..." his voice boomed from the foyer, steady and calm.

Lila grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the stairs. "Come on, Nina! I know the best spot!"

We scrambled up the stairs. Lila ducked into a linen closet in the hallway, whispering for me to find my own place. I ran toward the guest wing, my heart racing for a completely different reason now. I slipped into one of the darkened guest rooms, hiding behind the heavy velvet curtains that flanked the tall windows.

I stood there in the darkness, listening to the silence of the house. A few minutes later, I heard the slow, deliberate creak of a floorboard.

He was close.

I held my breath, pressing myself against the cool glass of the window. I could hear his footsteps—heavy, rhythmic, patient. He wasn't rushing. He was hunting.

The door to the guest room opened with a soft click. The light from the hallway spilled across the floor in a long, thin line. I saw his shadow first—tall, broad, and imposing. He didn't turn on the light. He stood in the center of the room, and I knew, even in the dark, that he was looking exactly where I was.

"I can hear you breathing, Nina," he whispered. The sound was right next to the curtain.

I bit my lip, refusing to move. Suddenly, the curtain was pulled back. Malachi stood there, his silhouette framed by the faint moonlight. He didn't reach for me. He just leaned one hand against the window frame, pinning me between his body and the glass.

He didn't say anything. He just watched me, his gaze traveling over my face, my neck, and resting on my eyes. The playfulness was gone, replaced by a raw, heavy silence.

"Found you," he breathed.

He didn't move away even after he "won." He just stood there, his presence overwhelming, his gaze lingering on me with a heat that felt like it was scorching my very soul. Before anything else could happen, Lila’s voice echoed from down the hall, "You found her! Now find me!"

Malachi didn't blink. He gave me one final, slow look—a gaze that said he had found much more than just a hiding spot—before he finally stepped back into the shadows to find his daughter.