Chapter 9

Kate's POV

Mr. William had been back for over five days now… and not once had he really looked at me.

Oh, he saw me—passed by me in the hall, brushed past me in the kitchen, even nodded politely when our paths crossed—but that was it. No lingering glances. No tension in the air. Just cold civility. Like I was some tenant in his mansion. Like I was nothing.

And it was driving me insane. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

In class, my notes blurred into a fog of fantasies. I’d stare blankly at the board while my mind wandered to the way his shirt clung to his arms… or how his voice would sound if he ever whispered my name like he meant it. And when I got home, it only got worse. Every creak of the staircase, every passing shadow—I hoped it was him. And when it wasn’t, I hated how disappointed I felt.

He was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

And what made it worse? He just kept getting sexier. The way he rolled up his sleeves before dinner. The curve of his mouth when he read something and smirked. The dark veins that flexed along his hands when he held a glass of wine. God. It was unfair. Torturous. Deliciously cruel.

Tonight, Jeremy said he was taking me out. Something like a concert—loud music, dancing, probably some greasy food.

But I hadn’t dressed for him.

I stood in front of my mirror for nearly an hour, trying on outfit after outfit until I found the one—the little black dress that hugged my waist and showed just enough skin to tease but not scream. I wanted elegance… with edge. And I wanted Mr. William to see it.

More than anything, I wanted a reaction.

I walked down the stairs like I was gliding on purpose—every step calculated. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor as I passed the open living room where he sat reading with a glass of whiskey in hand. He didn’t look up.

Not once. Not even a twitch.

I paused for half a second, hoping… praying for his eyes to lift.

Nothing.

My chest tightened with disappointment that felt far too sharp to be logical. I had to swallow the bitter taste rising in my throat. I didn’t know whether I wanted him to notice me—or to want me. Probably both.

And then—

Knock knock.

Jeremy was at the door.

Of course he was.

I plastered on a smile, trying to shake the hollow ache inside me. I told myself to focus on the night ahead, to enjoy it, to pretend none of this mattered. But as I opened the door and stepped into Jeremy’s arms, all I could think about… was the man still seated on that couch.

The man who hadn’t even glanced my way.

And the worst part?

I’d never wanted his attention more.

Jeremy’s eyes widened the moment he saw me.

“Damn, Kate,” he breathed, looking me up and down like I was some rare jewel he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch. “You look… wow.”

I offered a small smile, my heart thudding, but not for him.

He leaned in, eyes heavy with intent, lips parting to kiss me—and instinctively, I tilted my head away, letting his lips land harmlessly against my cheek.

“Let’s go,” I said quickly, my voice too upbeat to be natural. I could feel the warmth of another pair of eyes behind me. Whether Mr. William was actually watching or not, I didn’t dare check. I wanted to believe he was. I needed to believe he noticed.

Jeremy hesitated for a split second, then followed my gaze toward the living room.

I saw it—the subtle way his jaw tightened. He definitely noticed him. Mr William, lounging with that unreadable expression, whiskey in hand, as if nothing in the world could rattle him. As if I wasn’t standing there in a dress that clung to me like sin.

Jeremy smiled again, but it was thinner now. Forced.

“Alright then,” he said, opening the door and leading me out.

The night air was cooler than I expected, brushing my bare legs and making me suddenly hyper-aware of how exposed I was. But I didn’t shiver. I didn’t feel cold.

I felt… watched.

Jeremy walked me to his car, ever the gentleman, pulling open the passenger side door like he was trying to impress me. I slid inside, legs crossed, heart unsettled.

He got in beside me, humming as he started the engine. “You’re gonna love this concert,” he said brightly. “There’s an afterparty too. Just you and me. We’re gonna have fun tonight, baby. I promise.”

But I wasn’t listening.

Not really.

His voice blurred into the background as my mind drifted—right back to the man sitting inside that house. The one who didn’t look at me, didn’t say a word, didn’t even blink.

I’d put on this dress for him. Wore this lipstick for him. Walked with a sway in my hips that begged for his attention.

And he gave me nothing.

The concert suddenly felt like a chore. Jeremy's laughter, his jokes, even his excitement—it all felt like noise I didn’t want to hear. Like a party I never wanted to attend.

I already knew it then.

The only thing I wanted tonight…

Was to go home.

And the only man I wanted to notice me…

Hadn’t even flinched.

William’s POV

I barely looked up when I heard the knock at the door. I knew it was the boy—Jeremy. His timing was painfully predictable. But when Kate opened the door to him, that’s when I finally glanced up... and nearly lost every ounce of control I had left.

She was wearing black. Not just any black. A dress that seemed stitched from smoke and sin. One that clung to her curves like it had been painted on by a goddamn dream. Short, dangerously short, with thin straps that toyed with the edge of modesty. And those legs—long, smooth, and already etched in my memory from every time she wandered around this house in her barely-there sleepwear.

But this—this was something else.

This wasn’t the girl who sat quietly in my kitchen eating cereal and pretending not to stare at me when I wasn't looking. This was a woman who wanted to be seen. And every fiber in my body burned knowing it wasn’t me she was supposed to be dressing for.

But I wasn’t stupid.

I caught the hesitation in her steps. The way her eyes flickered toward the living room, seeking something. Maybe hoping. And God help me, I almost gave in. I almost stood up and said something—anything—to make her stay.

Instead, I clenched my jaw and looked back at my book.

She’d chosen to go out with him. She made her decision.

And yet…

I heard her brush off his kiss. Saw the way she practically rushed the goodbye. I even saw how Jeremy’s eyes darkened when he realized—he wasn’t the one she wanted to impress tonight. But she left anyway. I watched from the window as he opened the door for her, hand on her back like he owned her. The image made something primal twist in my gut.

My grip on the whiskey glass tightened.

I hated it.

I hated the way she got under my skin, the way she haunted every corner of this house, this mind. I hated how much I noticed—every glance, every blush, every time she bit her lip and didn’t even realize she was doing it. I hated how much I wanted her.

But most of all, I hated that I couldn’t have her.

She was my friend’s daughter.

Too young. Too innocent. Too dangerous.

So I poured myself another drink and forced my eyes back to the words on the page. But they didn’t stick. My mind had already wandered—to her legs, her lips, her scent that still lingered in the air like temptation.

She was gone.

But somehow… she was everywhere.