The door clicked shut behind her, but Arnold didn't move.
From the second-story window of his study, he watched the car disappear through the security gates. His expression remained unchanged—sharp, unreadable, cold. To anyone else, the girl would've meant nothing.
But Arnold Blaze wasn't anyone else.
He stood there for a moment longer, the silence wrapping around him like armor. Then he turned, walked to the liquor cabinet, and poured himself a glass of scotch.
No ice. No hesitation.
He downed it in a single gulp.
It wasn't about the girl.
It was about control—his control. And the night had veered off script. Arnold hated surprises.
"Sir," Lucas's voice crackled through the intercom, "Isabella and I are ready for the Sterling debrief."
Arnold pressed the button. "On my way."
He didn't allow himself to think of Lilith again. She had been a mistake. A strange, beautiful, vulnerable mistake. And in his world, mistakes were meant to be erased or corrected—not entertained.
Yet hours later, while reviewing merger contracts, the faint scent of her perfume still clung to the guest room across the hall.
And that bothered him more than it should have.
Meanwhile…
Lilith sat rigid in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly as Athena drove in awkward silence.
"Are you okay?" Athena asked hesitantly.
Lilith shot her a glare. "What do you think?"
Athena winced. "I said I was sorry. I didn't know—"
"You left me," Lilith snapped. "With strangers. I could've ended up dead or trafficked, and you wouldn't have noticed until I stopped texting."
"I was drunk—"
"I was drunk too! But I didn't vanish with some random guy!"
Athena fell silent, guilt thick in the air.
Lilith turned toward the window, trying to collect her spiraling thoughts. Flashes of the night kept coming back—Arnold's quiet intensity, the cool edge in his voice, the eerie calm in his movements.
That morning, she'd woken up in a strange room and panicked.
She'd screamed, threatened to call the police, tried to run.
Arnold hadn't flinched.
"You can leave whenever you want," he'd said smoothly, hands in his pockets. "The gate is open. But I suggest you call someone first, you're still not thinking straight."
No panic. No apology. No warmth.
She'd called him a psycho.
He'd raised a brow. That was it.
He hadn't touched her. Hadn't stopped her from leaving. Hadn't even asked for her name.
But his eyes—ohh, his eyes.
Something in them chilled her.
And thrilled her.
Lilith shook the thought off like water. No. She didn't need a man like Arnold Blaze in her life. Especially not now.
Not when everything else was already falling apart.