IRA POV:
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"I… Adrain… I—" I stuttered, words tumbling in my throat, refusing to form. His piercing black eyes locked onto mine, blazing with fury, devouring me whole without mercy. His glare was so sharp it felt like it could rip my soul apart.
"Adrain… I am s-sorry… for misunderstanding you," I whispered, my voice trembling, my heart thundering inside my chest.
"I just wanted to—" Before I could explain, his cold hand clamped tightly around my wrist, squeezing like steel, and he dragged me mercilessly toward the door.
"Adrain! Please, listen to me! I'm sorry… let me help you!" My pleas fell on deaf ears.
"P-please! Just let me explain!" I begged, struggling, trying to pry his iron grip off my hand. God, why was he so impossibly strong?
"Adrain! You can't throw me out like this!" My voice cracked as I fought against him, but he was unmoved, his face hard, merciless.
He was about to fling me out of the house when suddenly— thud!
"Claira!" I screamed, ripping myself free and rushing to her. She was sprawled unconscious on the floor, her body lifeless.
"Claira… Claira! Open your eyes, please!" I cried, clutching her cold hand, shaking it desperately.
After an hour…
"How is she?" Adrain's voice was sharp, demanding, his patience razor-thin.
"She's fine, Mr. Blake. But this much stress is dangerous in her condition," the doctor explained, adjusting his glasses nervously. "She's weak. I'll prescribe vitamins, but she must rest and eat properly."
The doctor hesitated, then asked carefully, "Mr. Blake… if you don't mind, may I know who she is?"
"That's none of your business. Your job is done. Leave." Adrain's tone cut like a blade. His eyes, dark and merciless, froze the man in place.
"Y-yes… Mr. Blake." The doctor gulped hard, scrambling to pack his things, escaping like a frightened rabbit running from a predator.
"Thank you, doctor," I said softly, offering a warm smile to ease his fear. He barely acknowledged me, fleeing as if death itself were on his heels.
Why does Adrain have to be so cruel? I thought only I felt small before him, but apparently, anyone would. Even his shadow could crush someone's courage.
I was lost in my thoughts when I realized his hard, burning glare was fixed on me. My stomach tightened. Oh God, help me.
"W-water… water," Claira murmured faintly.
I rushed to her side, filled a glass, but before I could hand it over, Adrain was already there—kneeling close, his large hand steady as he lifted her head and helped her drink.
"Are you okay?" His voice softened, but only for her.
"I… I'm fine," she whispered weakly.
"I'll make something for you," I blurted out, desperate to do something to help. My eyes darted to Adrain's expressionless face, searching for permission. He said nothing, but his silence felt heavy. I took it as a yes and fled to the kitchen before he could change his mind.
ADRAIN POV:
"She thinks running away will save her…" I muttered, watching her disappear into the kitchen. I wanted to yell, to remind her she was reckless, foolish. But when I looked at Claira's pale face, I swallowed my anger. I couldn't frighten her further.
"Adrain… try to under—"
"You should rest. We'll talk later," I cut her off, keeping my tone calm.
She nodded, but as I turned, her weak fingers grasped my hand.
"Adrain… don't be angry with her. She was only trying to help."
Her words sank deep, but I said nothing, pulling my hand away. She thought she could tell me what to do? That infuriating girl—why couldn't she just stay quiet, stay safe? She had no idea how dangerous Peter was.
I stormed downstairs, ready to confront her… but froze at the sight before me.
Onions, garlic, capsicum, and carrots littered the floor. Flour dusted the air like snow. And in the center of the disaster stood Eira, her back to me, fumbling helplessly.
"What are you doing?" My voice was sharp, harsher than I intended. She flinched violently, then turned, her face red with embarrassment.
"I-I'm… cooking. I'll clean it later." Her voice wavered as she stared at the mess. A smudge of flour streaked her forehead, strands of hair falling into her flushed face. She looked ridiculous—messy, clumsy. Yet… painfully, irresistibly cute. I bit back a laugh. What was I even thinking?
EIRA POV:
"You should… go out," I muttered, mortified. "I'll handle it."
"I'll cook. Leave," he said flatly, tying the apron around his waist.
"No, Adrain! You don't—"
His eyes snapped to mine, a warning that froze the words in my throat. Without another word, he turned back to the counter, knife in hand.
I sighed and moved to leave, but suddenly his grip seized my wrist again, yanking me toward him. I stumbled, my palm pressing against his chest for balance.
He was close. Too close. His gaze pinned me in place, stealing the air from my lungs. My body betrayed me, refusing to move.
Slowly, deliberately, his fingers brushed against my forehead, pushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch lingered, featherlight yet searing, as his thumb grazed my temple. My heart was slamming so hard I thought he could hear it.
Then, just as suddenly, he pulled back, turning his back to me.
"Flour," he muttered harshly. "At least learn to do something properly."
Heat burned my cheeks, shame and something else twisting inside me. What was that? What just happened?
I turned to leave again, but his voice stopped me cold.
"Clean this mess."
I bit my lip, swallowing my pride. Fighting with him was like arguing with a storm. Instead, I crouched down, picking up vegetable scraps, sneaking glances at him.
His movements… God. His hands guided the knife with such precision, each slice of cabbage perfect, each motion controlled and powerful. Oil hissed in the pan as he stirred, his focus unwavering, his broad shoulders tense yet graceful. I couldn't tear my eyes away.
How could a man look so dangerously handsome while cooking?
By the time I blinked, he had already plated everything: tomato pasta, apple and lettuce salad, bean soup, and banana walnut pancakes—each dish perfect, mouthwatering, like art.
I couldn't resist. Sorry, Claira. I stole a bite of pancake.
The moment it touched my tongue, flavor exploded like fireworks—sweet, warm, divine. My eyes fluttered shut.
"You're… a food magician," I breathed in bliss.
Then—splash! Soup spilled, scalding hot, across my hand.
"Ahhh! AAHHH!" I cried out, clutching my burning skin.
In an instant, Adrain was there, jerking my arm, plunging my hand into cool water. His hand pressed firmly over mine, protective, steady.
"Are you blind?" he roared, anger laced with panic. "Do you want to burn yourself alive?"
"I-I'm sorry! I just took one spoon—just one—"
"Like this? By hurting yourself?" His voice shook with fury. "You don't even know how to eat properly!"
"You can't say that to me! I didn't—"
"Stop talking, stupid girl!" His shout echoed, cutting me off.
Tears stung my eyes, but I forced the words out. "Leave! I can take care of myself!" I tried pulling away, but his grip tightened, dragging me closer.
"Don't you dare move." His voice dropped, low, husky, trembling with something dangerous. His dark eyes locked on mine, pulling me into a storm I couldn't escape.
My breath hitched as I realized… I wasn't sure I wanted to escape.