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My mother said it was a gift, but I considered it a curse until one day, it became my greatest strength. My finger absentmindedly traced the emerald ring on my finger. I missed her. Every day. She was gone, and there was nothing I could do about it, but I will safely keep her memories alive in my heart.

Instead of waiting for him to get my door, I slid out of the car quickly. I didn’t want to waste another second studying the property in daylight. It wasn’t as eerie and ominous as it appeared last night. The backyard ocean brought tranquility to the space, and the mansion stood calm, breaking the clouds with its tall towers.

“I would suggest a drink before we head down, but you don’t seem to be the type to make small talk,” Arkane said as he led me toward the foyer, which was immaculate, with its checkered marble floors, low-hanging crystal chandeliers, arched windows, and dark wooden walls, with two men standing covertly among the ornate pillars.

I nodded, not saying a word, and followed him.

The security was top-notch. I counted about forty-seven cameras already, a dozen motion sensors, and several men shadowing the property, but I knew that wasn’t the entire picture. Who knew what other security measures the world’s top weapons manufacturers had in store? And this wasn’t even the Stormholds’ family estate. It was just his home.

Instead of taking the right, which I assumed was the main home, he led me in the opposite direction, into a wide hallway. The side wall was lined with glass panes overlooking the deep blue ocean, and the curved ceiling featured Renaissance art, with wide wooden doors and gold-framed paintings to the right.

The entire home was bathed in golden light, and it felt like I had stepped into an 18th-century castle. And with its fusion of French Rococo and Italian Baroque style interiors, this place was truly enchanting.

But nothing about it felt impersonal, flashy, or modern. It was exquisitely elegant, just like the man, matching my small steps, his right hand casually hovering over the semi-automatic at his waist, almost as if he anticipated me unsheathing my knife at any second and holding it to his neck.

We both knew we were armed, and we also knew it was more of a precautionary measure. I was smart enough to know I would be dead with all the men surrounding me, but Arkane knew very well that I wouldn’t go down without taking his life.

“Your house, it’s beautiful,” I complimented genuinely. I was never much for interiors or architecture, but in my dreams, I lived in a place like this, reading endless books with the love of my life while we chased our children.

“Thank you.” I felt his eyes flash to me. “I designed it myself.”

“Impressive,” I muttered. “But I’m not surprised, only curious.” My eyes slid to his as we both entered a vintage manual elevator with mirrored walls and French wooden frames.

“About?” he asked, and my eyes followed his strong hand grasping the lever to twist it down. The sight seared a phantom flame to my palm. I still remember his touch like it had been tattooed on my skin.

My thoughts shifted when a creak slithered through the air before the elevator started to descend. I could think of a thousand different scenarios of how this could go wrong, and my sisters would find my body in a ditch somewhere, but one thing about the Stormholds was that they were honorable with their word. Although I wasn’t sure if that was the case after September thirteenth.

“If the cave in the cliffside is more you, and is this outward opulence just a farce? Or is it the opposite?” I finally answered him.

The elevator felt too small for the both of us, especially his six-four presence towering over me, exuding power just by existing. Suddenly, I wanted to know how he would look when taking a life.

A slight smile curved his lips, and it made the silver in his eyes flash like lightning. “You would love to know, wouldn’t you, Belle?”

My name on his lips again. Only this time, he called me Belle. No one called me Belle except for my sisters. His voice felt like a velvet rose caressing my soul, and with the way his smile widened, he knew it too.

This man was dangerously gorgeous. In his long black coat that reached his ankles, black shirt and vest with a thick chain in a color that matched his piercing eyes, and with his sideswept raven hair, there was something undeniable about him. Almost like a vintage Hollywood star stealing hearts in the eighties.

A terrible temptation.

Thankfully, we were saved by the elevator landing bell, which prevented me from answering his tricky question.

“Ladies first.” Arkane held out his hand, ushering me out with the same smile, and I gave him a blank look before exiting the elevator and stepping into what felt like a rendition of the underworld itself.

A large empty corridor with run-down floors and dirty walls stretched out before us, like a lone, stagnant being from a horror film asylum. Several metal doors were on either side of it. I could only imagine the dreadful things that happened inside those doors.

“I don’t think this is ever the kind of place you say, ladies first, Stormhold,” I muttered, my eyes roving over the flickering light bulbs.

“But you’re not just any lady, are you, Belle?” he quipped.

“Hmm, you could say that,” I replied dryly, and his intent stare roamed over my face before he gestured with his head.

“This way,” he said.

I nodded, and he matched my steps, this time with his hands casually by his side. It would be a grave misstep on my end if I thought he still wasn’t on guard.

I could feel his eyes on me, but I played it nonchalantly as I studied the layout. Assuming from the length and size of this space, I could tell this wasn’t a part of the main house, so this basement was tunneled beneath the forest land. He already had his cave tunneled in the mountain, so this was nothing for him.

The more we walked, the more prominent the heaviness in the air became. It was the kind of smell that sticks to your skin, like a thin layer that lingers no matter how many times you try to wash it away. The smell of death. They say it clings to the hairs in your nostrils, reminding you of your pungent actions every time you breathe.