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The unexpected gentleness in his touch sends a shiver through me. For a moment, I see a glimpse of the man behind the ruthless facade—someone capable of kindness, of genuine emotion.
But then it's gone, replaced by his usual mask of cool authority. "That's enough for tonight," he says, stepping back. "We'll continue this discussion tomorrow. For now, let me show you to your new room."
I blink, confusion clouding my thoughts. "My... room?"
Avros's smile is wicked, laced with hidden meaning. "Did you think I'd let my new assistant out of my sight, Sydney? You'll be staying here from now on. It's safer that way, for both of us."
The implications of his words hit me like a tidal wave. This isn't just a job. It's a complete upheaval of my life. I open my mouth to protest, but the steely glint in Avros's eye silences me.
I nod, suddenly exhausted.
"Oh, and Sydney?" There’s a predatory smile curving his lips. "Don't think about running. You're mine now,krasotka. Best get used to it."
His words send a shiver down my spine, equal parts fear and something else. Something I'm not ready to name.
"I understand," I manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
Avros's eyes darken as he closes the distance between us once more. His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing across my lower lip. "Do you?" he murmurs, his voice low and intimate. "I don't think you do. Not yet. But you will."
For a moment, I think he might kiss me. Part of me, a traitorous, reckless part, wants him to. But he steps back, leaving me breathless and confused.
“I’ll show you to your room now, Sydney," he says, putting distance between us like it’s nothing, even though for some reason the sudden lack of his touch leaves me aching. “Follow me.”
4
Avros
Istand at the window of my study, my eyes fixed on the figure moving gracefully through the gardens below. Sydney's flame-red hair catches the early morning light, a beacon drawing my gaze inexorably to her. She pauses to admire the rose bushes, her slender fingers brushing the delicate petals with a reverence that stirs something deep within me.
Those were my mother's favorites. The thought comes unbidden, a memory I usually keep locked away. I have the sudden, irrational urge to join Sydney, to share that piece of history with her. To see her eyes light up with interest, to watch her drink in every detail of my past.
I shake my head, trying to dislodge these dangerous thoughts. What the hell is wrong with me? Sydney isn't here for some romantic stroll through memory lane. She's here because I need to keep her close, to ensure my family's secrets stay buried. Nothing more.
And yet...
My mind drifts back to last night, to the moment I showed her to her new room. The blue room, with its panoramic view of the grounds and the best vantage point for watching the sunrise. I'd ordered it prepared without a second thought, wanting her to have the finest accommodations my home had to offer.
"If you need anything," I'd told her, lingering in her doorway, "my room is just down the hall."
I'd seen the flash of understanding in those emerald eyes, the slight parting of her full lips. The air between us had crackled with tension, heavy with unspoken possibilities. It had taken every ounce of self-control to step back, to remember why she was really here.
But now, in the harsh light of day, I find myself questioning my own motives. Why did I choose that particular room for her? Why did I spend hours personally selecting a wardrobe of designer clothes in her size, adding a note that she was to spare no expense if she needed anything else?
I'm not a man given to indulgence or unnecessary luxury. Everything I do serves a purpose, advances my goals in some way. So, what purpose does spoiling Sydney serve?
A knock at the door interrupts my brooding. "Enter," I call out, not taking my eyes off Sydney's form below.
"Boss?" It's Alexei, my head of security. "The package you requested has arrived."
I turn, raising an eyebrow at the large, unmarked box in Alexei's arms. "Excellent. Set it on the desk."
As Alexei complies, I catch the flicker of curiosity in his usually impassive gaze. He's wondering about the contents, about why I've taken such a personal interest in our new... guest.
"Is there something else?" I ask, my tone a warning.
Alexei hesitates, then shakes his head. "No, sir. Will that be all?"
I dismiss him with a wave, turning my attention to the box. Inside is a state-of-the-art laptop, loaded with all the software Sydney will need to perform her duties as my assistant. And a few extra features to ensure I can monitor her activities closely.
