Chapter 5: HER

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!

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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 before her.

Her lips parted slightly, her breath hitching when she finally met my gaze.

My own eyes drifted downward, drawn to her lips—full, soft, undeniably tempting. An ache stirred deep within me, a sudden and reckless urge to frame her face in my hands, to feel the warmth of her mouth beneath mine.

Bloody hell. The thought sent a rush of heat through me.

She was beautiful. Not in the conventional, polished way most women tried to be, but something deeper. Her smoky hazel eyes, flecked with gold, shimmered like embers in the light. The rich brown tones in them matched her deep red hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail with front bangs—a style that had long gone out of fashion, "Yet it suited her perfectly, contrasting beautifully with her light skin."

She was rare. Simple, yet striking.

Her features were delicate but well-defined—straight, pointed nose, high-arched brows, a slender yet poised frame. I had met plenty of beautiful women, but there was something different about her. Something softer. More alluring.

And then she said it.

“I’m your caretaker.”

Rage shot through me in an instant.

“My Caretaker?!” The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

I had sworn off caretakers long ago. This woman—this Ms. White—was no exception. I told her to leave by morning.

For a moment, I saw something flicker in her eyes—hurt. A pang of guilt stirred in me, something I wasn’t used to feeling, especially for someone I had just met. But I ignored it. I turned and walked away, determined to put her out of my mind.

Except I couldn’t.

The moment I shut my bedroom door, she was all I could think about—her voice, her presence, the way she had pleaded with me to let her stay.

I needed to shut this down. Fast.

Calling Nadia minutes later should have helped, but it didn’t. She only made things worse, insisting I let Samantha stay.

“Give her a week, sir,” Nadia had said.

One week. That was all I would allow.

And yet, deep down, I knew—this woman was going to be a problem. A challenge.

This was dangerous.

———

The Next Morning

The moment I stepped out of the shower, a rich, woody scent with a hint of lemon hit my senses. My muscles tensed. Someone had been in my room.

And then I saw her.

Samantha White.

She stood near the bed, mesmerized by the paintings on the walls.

She wasn’t rummaging through things. She wasn’t snooping. She was simply… observing. Absorbing the art before her.

She wore a casual, sleeveless green gown, her hair pulled back into that same ponytail. I was beginning to think that was the only style she knew.

It was oddly… endearing.

For a brief moment, I just watched her, something about the sight unsettling me in a way I couldn’t quite place.

I had to put a st

op to this. Now.

“YOU AGAIN?!”

She startled, turning toward me with wide eyes.

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