Chapter 18: A CLASH AND A COMFORT.

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          The hallway was quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of wall sconces. The silence should have been calming, but my heart was still pounding, my skin still warm from Blake’s touch.

I needed air.

I needed distance.

But as I turned the corner, I nearly collided with someone.

A firm hand caught my arm before I could stumble.

I looked up—straight into Alan’s dark, mesmerizing gaze.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

He was dressed in all black, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing a hint of warm skin. There was something slightly disheveled about him, like he’d just come back from somewhere. The faintest scent of whiskey and the night air clung to him.

I swallowed. “Alan.”

His fingers flexed around my arm before he slowly released me, his eyes never leaving mine. “You look… distracted.”

My breath caught.

It wasn’t a casual observation. It was precise. Cutting. Like he knew exactly what was running through my mind.

I straightened, forcing my pulse to steady. “I was just—”

“Leaving Blake’s room.”

It wasn’t a question.

My stomach tightened.

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch, but enough to make the space between us feel too small. Enough to make my breath unsteady.

Alan’s gaze flickered over my face, assessing. Then, lower—to my lips, to the way my chest rose and fell just a little too fast.

A slow smirk touched his lips, but there was something else in his expression. Something faint.

“Tell me,” he murmured. “What did he say to you?”

I hesitated.

Alan was dangerous like this. Too perceptive. Too in tune with every shift in my expression, every unspoken thought running through my mind.

I forced a shrug. “He offered me a job.”

His head tilted slightly, his gaze still locked onto mine. “A job.”

“Yes”

Silence.

Then, in a voice too smooth, too quiet—

“And that made you look like this?”

I tensed.

Like this.

Like what?

Like my thoughts were still tangled in the way Blake had touched me? The way his breath had skimmed over my skin?

“And what job is that?”

"He doesn't want me to be his caretaker anymore. He wants me to work for him as his personal assistant."

I could feel the anger radiating off him. "Great. So, he finally got what he wanted—you won’t be my caretaker anymore."

The jealousy in his voice was unmistakable.

I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my dress. “It’s not like that, Alan. I had a choice.”

Alan let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “A choice? You think he gave you a choice?” His gaze burned into mine, sharp and accusing. “Blake doesn’t just offer jobs, Samantha. He takes what he wants.”

My breath hitched. “That’s not fair,” i shot back. “He’s been nothing but—”

“Nothing but what?” Alan cut me off, stepping closer. “Good to you? Generous? Kind?” His voice was laced with something dark—something possessive. “Is that why you’ve been spending all your time with him? Avoiding me?”

My lips parted, but i hesitated. I had been avoiding him. But not for the reasons he thought.

Heat crept up my neck. I turned away. “It’s late. I should go.”

I didn’t get far.

Alan’s voice stopped me cold.

“Do you want him?”

The words were soft, but they landed like a strike.

I froze.

My pulse roared in my ears.

Slowly, I turned back to face him.

His expression had shifted—no longer teasing, no longer amused. His jaw was tense, his eyes darker, sharper.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Alan took another step forward, crowding me against the wall. The heat from his body, the scent of him, filled every inch of space between us.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.” His voice dropped lower, a rasp that sent a slow shiver through me. “Do you want him?”

I let out a shaky breath. “Of course not,” I forced out. “He’s my boss. There’s no way I would want him.”

Alan’s smirk deepened, but there was no humor in his eyes. Only something sharper. Darker.

“Ah,” he murmured. “Don’t lie to me, Samantha.” His voice was softer now, more dangerous. “You know you want him. You’ve been spending so much time with him lately. And avoiding me.”

My stomach twisted.

I lifted my chin. “You’re the one who avoided me first,” I shot back, my voice unsteady. “You’re the one giving me cold shoulders, Alan. What was I supposed to do?”

His expression didn’t change.

I took a breath, my frustration bubbling over. “Every time I walked into a room, you looked through me like I didn’t exist. You barely spoke to me. You treated me like—” I swallowed, looking away. “Like I was nothing.”

Alan’s jaw clenched. His gaze burned into me, but I didn’t stop.

“So don’t act like I’m the one who’s been avoiding you,” I said, voice shaking. “You did it first.”

For a second, he said nothing.

Then—

“Forget it,” he murmured. Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, heart hammering, breath shaking.

———

The air in the hallway still felt thick, charged with everything Alan had just said. My pulse hadn’t settled, my skin still prickled where his eyes had roamed over me.

I squeezed my hands into fists, willing my breath to even out.

Do you want him?

His voice echoed in my head, low and taunting, wrapping around me like a vice. And the worst part? I didn’t know how to answer. Not to him. Not even to myself.

A sharp voice broke through my thoughts.

“Samantha?”

I looked up. Isabella stood a few feet away, her eyes flicking between me and the direction Alan had disappeared.

She raised a brow. “You okay?”

I forced a small smile. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

She studied me for a second before scoffing. “Right. And I’m the Queen of England.”

I let out a small laugh, rubbing my arms. “It’s nothing, Isabella. Really.”

She hummed, unconvinced. “Well, instead of standing here looking like you just saw a ghost, how about we do something better?”

I blinked at her. “Like what?”

A slow grin spread across her face. “Come on. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Before I could protest, she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the kitchen.

The cool air from the fridge brushed against my skin as Isabella rummaged through it. Moments later, she turned around with two tubs of ice cream and held them up.

“Chocolate or vanilla?” she asked.

I hesitated. “Uh, chocolate.”

“Good choice,” she said, tossing me a spoon before hopping onto the counter.

I took a seat across from her, dipping my spoon into the ice cream. The first bite melted on my tongue, the coldness grounding me.

Isabella kicked her feet lightly against the cabinets. “So…” she drawled. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you and Alan, or do I have to guess?”

I nearly choked on my ice cream. “There’s nothing going on with Alan.”

She smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

I shook my head. “Really. He just… caught me off guard, that’s all.”

She watched me for a beat, then shrugged. “Okay. If you say so.”

Silence stretched between us, filled only by the clink of spoons against the tubs. Then, out of nowhere, she asked—

“So… have you ever been with anyone before?”

I paused, my spoon hovering mid-air. “What?”

“A guy,” she clarified. “Like, have you ever had a boyfriend?”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed. “No.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait, seriously? You’ve never had a boyfriend?”

I felt my face heat up. “No.”

She blinked. “Not even a little crush?”

“Well, sure, but nothing serious.”

Isabella stared at me like I’d just admitted I was an alien. “So… you’ve never kissed anyone?”

My throat tightened. “…No.”

A slow grin spread across her face. “Oh my God. That’s actually kind of cute.”

I groaned, shoving another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, it’s just—” she shook her head, still grinning. “I guess I just assumed… well, never mind.”

She took another bite of her ice cream before casually adding, “Well, I have a boyfriend.”

That got my attention.

I glanced up. “You do?”

She nodded. “Yep. I’m bringing him to the ball.”

“Wow.” I was genuinely surprised. “How long have you been together?”

“A year and few months,” she said. “He’s great. You’ll like him.”

I hesitated, something stirring in my chest. Maybe it was curiosity. Or maybe it was the fact that she seemed so sure about her feelings for someone.

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

“How do you know?”

She frowned. “Know what?”

“That you like someone,” I said quietly. “How do you… know?”

Isabella tilted her head, studying me. Then, a slow smile spread across her face.

“Ohhh,” she teased. “Samantha, are you catching feelings?”

My stomach twisted. “No! I just—I mean…” I sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve just never felt it before, so I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like.”

She licked her spoon thoughtfully. “Well… it’s different for everyone. But for me?” She shrugged. “It’s the way I want to be around him all the time. The way I think about him even when he’s not there. And…” Her eyes twinkled. “The way he gets under my skin but I like it.”

I stiffened.

That… sounded familiar.

Too familiar.

I suddenly felt warm again, memories of Alan’s voice, Blake’s touch, flashing through my mind.

I cleared my throat. “That… sounds complicated.”

Isabella smirked. “Oh, it is. But that’s half the fun.”

I forced a chuckle, but inside, my thoughts were spinning.

Because if what she was saying was true… then I was in big trouble.

Isabella set her spoon down and leaned against the counter, studying me with a thoughtful expression. “You know, Samantha,” she said, her voice softer now, “I don’t see you as just a worker in this house.”

I blinked. “You don’t?”

She scoffed. “Of course not. From the moment I met you, I knew you weren’t just some employee. You’re family. And I mean that.”

Something about the certainty in her voice made my chest tighten.

She reached for my hand, squeezing it lightly. “I don’t care what anyone else says, or how complicated things get with my brothers—you’re not alone here. You’ll always have me.”

Warmth spread through me, a mix of gratitude and something deeper.

“You really mean that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Isabella rolled her eyes playfully. “Obviously.” Then, more seriously, “If you ever need someone to talk to, if something is bothering you—no matter what it is—you can come to me. I’ll always be here for you, Sam. Always.”

Emotion swelled in my throat. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that.

“Don’t let anyone make you feel less than you are,” she continued firmly. “Not my brothers. Not anyone.”

I swallowed hard, nodding. “Thank you, Isabella.”

She grinned, grabbing her spoon again. “Now, enough of the serious stuff. We still have ice cream to finish.”

A small laugh escaped me as I picked up my spoon, the tension from earlier fading just a little.

We sat there, side by side, sharing ice cream and easy conversation, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I truly belonged— I had someone close to Lisa, someone close to a sister.

That night, as I lay in bed, I replayed her words in my head.

No matter what happened next, at least I had her.

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