Chapter 2: The Ice King

Leighton spent the next morning hiding in her room like a coward.

She updated her resume. Applied to twelve jobs. Scrolled through apartment listings she couldn't afford. Anything to avoid going downstairs and risking another encounter with Noah.

Her phone rang just after noon. Chloe.

"Hey, want to grab lunch? I'm off early today."

"Sure. Where should I meet you?"

"I'm literally downstairs. Come down."

Right. Because Chloe lived here too. Leighton had almost forgotten in her panic to avoid Noah.

She changed out of her pajamas into jeans and a sweater, then made her way downstairs. This time in daylight, the house was even more impressive. And intimidating. Huge windows let in natural light that made everything gleam. The art on the walls probably cost more than she'd make in a year.

She found Chloe in the kitchen, rifling through the fridge.

"Finally! I'm starving. Want to go to that Thai place you love?"

"I can't really afford to eat out right now."

"My treat. Don't argue." Chloe grabbed her purse. "Come on."

They were halfway to the door when Noah appeared at the top of the stairs. He was on his phone, talking in a clipped tone about quarterly reports and market projections. He wore a suit today, all sharp lines and expensive fabric.

He glanced down at them. His eyes passed over Leighton without a flicker of recognition.

Again.

"We're going out," Chloe called up. "Want anything?"

He shook his head, already walking away, still talking into his phone.

"See?" Chloe said once they were in her car. "He's barely aware you exist. This is going to be fine."

Leighton forced a smile. "Yeah. Fine."

Lunch helped. Chloe always knew how to make her laugh, and for an hour, she almost forgot about the disaster her life had become. Almost forgot about living in a mansion with a man who looked at her like she was invisible.

When they got back, Chloe had to run to a meeting.

"I'll be back around seven. We can watch a movie or something." She squeezed Leighton's hand. "It's going to work out. I promise."

Leighton nodded and headed back to her room. But somewhere on the second floor, she took a wrong turn.

The hallway looked the same as the one her room was in. Same carpet, same lights, same closed doors. But when she tried the door she thought was hers, it didn't open.

She tried the handle again. Locked.

Wait. Her door didn't lock from the outside. Did it?

She stepped back and looked around. This wasn't the right hallway at all. Nothing looked familiar.

"Great," she muttered. "Lost in a house. That's a new low."

She backtracked, trying to retrace her steps. Took another turn. This hallway had different art on the walls. Still wrong.

How did anyone navigate this place?

She tried another direction. The hallway opened into a sitting area she didn't recognize. More wrong turns. A bathroom. A linen closet. Another locked door.

Twenty minutes later, she was completely turned around. Nothing looked familiar. Every hallway seemed identical.

She pulled out her phone to text Chloe, then remembered she was in her meeting. Leighton stared at her contacts. She could call someone. Except she didn't know anyone else here. Her only other option was...

No. Absolutely not. She was not texting Noah Knight to ask for directions in his own house.

She'd figure it out herself.

Another wrong turn led her to a set of double doors. Maybe they led to a wing she recognized? She pushed one open carefully.

It was an office. A massive office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens, a huge desk covered in monitors, and bookshelves lining the walls.

And Noah, sitting at the desk, watching her.

"I'm sorry," she said immediately. "I didn't mean to... I got lost."

He leaned back in his chair. "Lost."

"Your house is really big."

"You've been here for less than twenty-four hours and you're already wandering into rooms you shouldn't be in."

Her face burned. "I wasn't wandering. I was trying to find my room. All the hallways look the same."

He stood up, and even from across the room, she could feel the weight of his irritation. He walked around the desk toward her, and she had to resist the urge to step back.

Up close, he was even more overwhelming. Tall enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. Those dark eyes that were currently looking at her like she was the world's biggest inconvenience.

"Which room did Chloe put you in?"

"The one with the blue bedding? And the view of the gardens?"

"East wing, third door on the right."

"Okay. Thanks. I'll just..." She gestured vaguely behind her.

"You're going the wrong way."

Of course, she was.

He moved past her into the hallway, and she had no choice but to follow. He walked quickly, taking turns without hesitation. She tried to memorize the route, but it was hopeless. Everything still looked identical to her.

They passed a slightly open door. Through it, she glimpsed a huge bedroom. King-size bed, dark furniture, everything perfectly neat. His room, probably.

"That's my room," he said without looking back, like he knew where her eyes had gone. "Don't go in there."

"I wouldn't."

"You got lost trying to find your own room. I'm not confident in your sense of direction."

Was he making fun of her? She couldn't tell. His voice was flat, emotionless.

He stopped at a door. "This one."

It was her room. She recognized the blue bedding through the open door.

"Thank you."

He nodded once, already turning away.

"Noah?"

He stopped but didn't turn around. It was becoming a pattern with him. Never fully facing her. Always ready to leave.

"I really am sorry. For being here. For being in the way. I know you didn't want me here."

Now he did turn, his dark eyes meeting hers. "It's not personal."

"It feels pretty personal."

"I don't know you. You're Chloe's friend. That's all."

The words shouldn't have stung. She barely knew him either. But they did. Because she'd spent fifteen years knowing exactly who he was. Watching him. Wanting him to look at her the way he was looking at her now.

Except now that he was looking, there was nothing in his eyes but cold disinterest.

"Two weeks," she said quietly. "Then I'll be gone and you can have your house back."

Something flickered across his face. She couldn't read it. Then it was gone, and his expression was smooth again.

"See that you do."

He walked away, and this time she didn't call after him.

She went into her room and closed the door, leaning against it. Her hands were shaking. From embarrassment, from anger, from something else she didn't want to name.

This version of Noah was nothing like the one she'd built up in her head. That Noah had been kind. Warm. Someone who would smile at her and make her feel like she mattered.

Real Noah was ice. Sharp edges and closed doors and eyes that looked through her instead of at her.

She needed to let go of the fantasy. The childhood crush. All of it.

He didn't want her here. He'd made that perfectly clear.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Chloe.

*Meeting ran late. Won't be back until 9. You okay?*

*I'm fine. Got lost trying to find my room but I figured it out*

*LOL this house is ridiculous. Noah gave me a map when I first moved in*

*There's a MAP?*

*I'll find it for you tomorrow. Hang in there*

Leighton set her phone down and looked around the room. Beautiful. Perfect. Everything she'd never have on her own.

And she'd never felt more out of place in her life.

She pulled up her laptop and applied to more jobs. Anything to speed up her exit. Graphic designer positions. Junior art director roles. Even a few administrative jobs that had nothing to do with her degree. She didn't care. She just needed out.

Two weeks felt like a lifetime.

Later that night, her stomach growled. She'd skipped dinner, too anxious about navigating the house to risk going downstairs. But she couldn't hide in her room forever.

It was past ten. Maybe Noah would be asleep. Or working in his office with the door closed.

She crept downstairs, following the route he'd shown her earlier. Or what she thought was the route. Everything looked different in the dark.

But she found the kitchen. Small victory.

The fridge was still packed with food. She grabbed some leftover pasta from one of the containers and heated it up, eating quickly while standing at the counter.

"You really like sneaking around at night."

She jumped, nearly dropping her fork. Noah stood in the doorway. No shirt again. Just pajama pants riding low on his hips.

Why did he keep doing this to her?

"I'm not sneaking. I'm eating."

"In the dark. In my kitchen."

"I turned the light on."

He moved into the room, and she tried very hard not to stare at his chest. In the muscles in his arms. At the tattoo she hadn't noticed before, black ink winding around his ribcage.

"You should eat actual meals," he said. "Not just bread and leftovers."

"I'm fine."

"You're avoiding me."

She set her fork down. "You told me to stay out of your way. That's what I'm doing."

"By getting lost in my house and breaking into my office?"

"I didn't break in. The door was open."

"It was closed."

"It was open a crack!"

The corner of his mouth twitched. For a second, she thought he might smile. But then his expression went flat again.

"Two weeks," he said. "Try to stay found until then."

He left, taking all the oxygen in the room with him.

Leighton dumped the rest of her pasta in the trash, her appetite gone. She trudged back upstairs, somehow finding her room on the first try.

She climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head.

Thirteen more days.

She could do this.

Probably.