Chapter 16

Liam

Julie would turn four in three days. Three. And, as with everything in my life, nothing could be mediocre. My daughter's birthday would not be just a children's party, but a spectacle worthy of the heiress she is. Of the only innocent Blackthorne.

I spent the morning in meetings with organizers, florists, suppliers. The garden needed to be transformed into a fairy-tale stage: ballerinas, rabbits, soft music. Balloons were not enough — I wanted ice sculptures, chocolate fountains, invitations that looked more like works of art. Julie won't remember every detail now, but I wanted her to know in the future that I never spared effort for her. That I never said "it won't work" when it came to her.

And yet, with every step, my irritation grew. Because it wasn't only about flowers and tables. It was about Kyra. About the constant absence in her — even with her constant presence in the mansion — she didn't seem to be truly there.

She organized everything with an almost exasperating care. I watched her from afar, adjusting napkin bows, checking each chair's position. Her delicate hands moved with precision, but what held me was the sweat at the nape of her neck, the soft curve of her spine when she bent down. She seemed made to be under command — my command.

Rage ate me because I couldn't simply take her. Not yet.

I decided to break the routine that night. I invited the two of them to dinner. It was a way to watch Kyra outside the walls of the house, to test her, to measure how far she would go. Julie, excited as always, dressed in blue. She looked like a living doll.

The restaurant was lit in gold, discreet and sophisticated. Julie laughed, kicking her feet, while Kyra carefully cut the piece of cake the girl insisted on eating before the meal. I watched her. The way she blew on the fork, testing the temperature before giving it to the child. It was a simple gesture, but intimate. So intimate it made my teeth grind.

That was when my brother showed up. An idiot who moved in with our father when he abandoned our mother when she needed him most.

"So this is your friend?" he asked, brazen, his eyes fixed on Kyra. "Beautiful hair... matches your eyes." The wink took my breath away, and that almost set me off.

My jaw clenched. I had chosen the word friend myself. I didn't want to call her nanny in front of curious looks; I didn't want to diminish her. But hearing a compliment like that set me on fire inside.

"She's not my friend," I retorted, dryly. "She's Julie's nanny. That's it."

"Oh, that's not what you told the shareholders. Well then, good evening, Liam."

His mocking laugh still echoed as he walked away. I saw Kyra's shoulders tense, her eyes lower. She swallowed the silence like poison. I should have been satisfied. But the discomfort of seeing another man even consider her was unbearable.

The night ended with Julie asleep in the car, her face against the glass. Kyra remained quiet.

"Good night, Mr. Blackthorne." — She simply went up to her room, and I didn't respond.

A quietness that would haunt me until dawn.

When the house plunged into silence, I went downstairs.

The basement greeted me with a metallic scent and leather soaked in memories. I turned on the low red lights, revealing chains hanging, polished steel handcuffs, whips lined like instruments of a dark orchestra — where I was the conductor. The chair in the center, covered in black leather, waited for the bait. Each piece there carried memories of submissive bodies, of pleading voices, of moans between pain and pleasure.

But as I walked through the space, memories did not surface. It was Kyra. Her mouth compressed when she apologized. Her eyes always fleeing mine. Her soft voice, so easy to bend. It was her I saw bound to the chains. It was her voice I imagined saying "yes, sir." Just like when she calls me Blackthorne.

I needed to end that. I could not allow a nanny to consume me. I then chose a woman from the club. Brunette, light eyes, similar to her in an almost sick way — or truly sick.

I placed her in the center of the room, her body at my disposal. The leather creaked when I secured her wrists. She moaned, anxious, ready to obey. My hand hovered over her skin. But the touch didn't come. My body didn't respond. The image that haunted me was Kyra — not that stranger. Even if similar, they were not the same. She would never be Kyra.

I stepped back as if burned.

"Leave." The order came out dry, with no room for reply.

She looked at me confused, but obeyed. When the door closed, the silence crushed me. I was alone among chains, steel and leather. And even surrounded by everything that defined me, I had nothing but the void screaming inside me.

Because what I wanted wasn't there. It was two floors up, sleeping in a room that should never be hers. Even though she has one of those rooms next to hers, she will never have my essence inside it.

Kyra

Julie's birthday was three days away, and the house looked like a war zone. Florists coming and going, stacked boxes, staff carrying decorations. I tried to organize every detail as a way to please the girl, but there was something worse than physical tiredness: Liam's constant presence watching me.

He watched me. Always. As if measuring every move, as if searching for an error to crush me with sharp words. To teach me the right way, without mistakes.

At dinner, I was surprised when he introduced me as "friend." For a moment, I almost believed it. But his brother's appearance destroyed the illusion. The compliment about my hair made my face burn, and before I could react, Liam cut the scene like a blade. Preventing me from speaking for myself.

"She's just Julie's nanny. That's all."

Those words weighed more than they should. I knew my place. I knew what I was. But it still hurt to be reduced to a function in front of strangers, as if I were invisible. Besides, if I were only there as a nanny, I never would have left the room.

The return home was silent. Julie slept peacefully with her face against the window, but inside I was awake, every nerve throbbing. With voices frying in my mind, without a second of quiet.

I tried to read, but the mansion's silence wasn't ordinary. It was heavy. As if Liam breathed in the hallways even when he wasn't there. I heard a door slam somewhere on the lower floor and flinched. He was awake.

And the feeling that dominated me was that there was something in him I didn't know. Something hidden somewhere in the house. A place where his darkness wasn't just a shadow, but the essence. The submission room was next to the one I was in — so what was he doing down there?

I lay down, but couldn't sleep. My heart raced, and it wasn't just fear. It was something that confused me, that made me want to run and, at the same time, stay. Because, deep down, I knew: Liam was not just my employer. He was a prison that began to attract me. And I feared that, by the time I realized it, it would be too late to escape.