Torn Inbetween Millions

——— The car rumbled along the quiet road, tires screening over ancient cobblestones. I sat straight in the backseat, fingers knotting themselves in my lap until the knuckles turned white. My stomach churned — that acidic, pre-interview feeling, except this interview couldn't be rescheduled. America felt lifetimes away. The passport in my bag might as well have been someone else's. Every unfamiliar street sign, every snatch of Italian from passing pedestrians hammered it home: you don't belong here.The driver's silence wasn't just quiet - it was the thick, loaded kind that makes you wonder what he knows that you don't. As the city lights faded, so did the crowds, until it was just us and these absurdly high walls scrolling past like some aristocratic prison perimeter. What kind of people needed walls like that? My fingers found a hangnail to worry at.Then the car slowed.My lungs seized—don’t hyperventilate, don’t you dare—I warned myself, before my eyes caught on the gates— t

Seeing him from my window had been one thing. But up close? He was on a whole other level.I'd only gotten a quick look before, but now, standing right in front of me, he demanded attention just by existing. Not handsome in the pretty-boy way, but the kind of man who made your breath catch without even trying. The kind who didn't need to speak to own a room—just walk in and suddenly the air itself rearranged around him.Those black almond shaped eyes locked onto me with terrifying focus, the kind that made my skin prickle like he was deciding if he will ruin me. And that face —Christ, it should've been illegal. Smooth brown skin pulled taut over razor-sharp cheekbones, lips that looked soft in sleep but were now pressed into a hard line. His jawline—clean shaven and perfect was so sharp I could've papercut myself on it—literally.His black hair, slicked back perfectly, and mussed like he'd spent the night wrestling with some unsolvable problem, fingers dragging through it over

Hey, everyone!Before we dive into the next chapter, I just wanted to give you a quick heads-up. This part of the story offers a glimpse into Blake’s point of view—not the full picture, just a peek inside his mind.Enjoy, my darlings!————Blake's POV (Later that night).Samantha White. A name that had never crossed my mind before. Seeing her last night, wandering aimlessly on my way back from the gym, was something I hadn’t expected. She looked lost—like a little girl out of place.I froze, staring at her for what felt like an eternity, trying to compose myself before finally stepping forward to find out who she was.The moment I spoke, she turned, startled yet undeniably intrigued.She studied me, her gaze sweeping from head to toe, taking her time. I let her. I had seen this before—the silent scrutiny, the unspoken curiosity.And then I saw it. The flicker of desire in her hazel eyes, the kind that betrayed whatever fantasy she was crafting in her mind—just like so many women befor

As I delved deeper into my writing, the rest of the world faded away. The only thing that existed was the story unfolding on my laptop’s screen.Hours passed, my mind completely consumed by the characters I was bringing to life. My fingers flew across the keyboard, weaving their stories, until exhaustion overtook me.I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep until I jolted awake, my eyes darting to the clock on my laptop.Past midday.Panic surged through me.Mr. Blake.I hadn’t prepared his meal.“Oh my God, he’s going to be furious,” I whispered, scrambling out of bed in a daze. This was the last thing I needed. I had to do everything perfectly if I wanted to keep this job.Heart racing, I rushed out of my room, my feet instinctively guiding me to the kitchen—finding my way was easier now than before.The kitchen was empty, as expected. It was just the two of us in the house.I moved quickly, preparing a meal with frantic determination, my thoughts flooded with apologies I would of

I stormed down the hallway, my heart still hammering from the scene in Blake’s office. My mind was a whirlwind of emotions—confusion, embarrassment, and a flicker of something else I didn’t want to name.Alan.I clenched my jaw, heat creeping up my neck at the memory of his smirk, the way his black eyes danced with mischief. He had played me, and worse, he had enjoyed every second of it. And Blake—God, the way he had looked at me. I had never seen him so tense, so…off.I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the person rounding the corner until it was too late.“Oof—”I stumbled backward as I collided into someone—again. A firm hand grabbed my elbow, steadying me before I could crash onto the floor.“Samantha!” Nadia’s voice was startled, but laced with concern. “What on earth—”I jerked my arm free, stepping back. “Did you know?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, my voice sharper than intended.Nadia blinked. “Know what?”I folded my arms, trying to