Athen sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, her eyes wandering around the enormous living room. The place was far beyond anything she'd imagined—high ceilings, spotless floors, and furniture that looked too expensive to touch. She still couldn't believe she was actually here.
She had blabbered about needing a place to stay, but she hadn't expected him to take it seriously. If anything, she'd thought they'd just send her some money to shut her up. Yet here she was, in a villa that looked straight out of a magazine, left speechless by the kind of luxury she had only ever seen on screens.
Ever since she arrived, Athen couldn't stop staring at the house, it looked like a castle pulled straight from a dream. Everything inside was perfectly arranged and elegant, the kind of luxury that screamed money and class. The marble floors gleamed, the chandeliers sparkled, and even the air smelled rich.
She sat quietly on one corner of the massive sofa, too scared to move. Her hands rested stiffly on her lap as she glanced around, afraid that if she so much as brushed against something, it might break and she'd be in debt for life. Even if they chained her to a wall and made her work forever, she knew she'd never be able to afford anything in this place, or pay if she did damage.
The secretary had told her to stay put, then left before she could even ask a single question. Even during the drive, he barely said a word. The only time Athen spoke was when she asked where they were going. "Hera Gardens," he'd answered plainly, and that was enough to shut her up completely.
Hera Gardens. Everyone knew that name. It was the most famous residential area in the city, home to billionaires, celebrities, and powerful figures who could buy entire companies with pocket change. Just entering through its heavily guarded gates was considered an honor, something the average person could only dream of.
And now, Athen was sitting inside what looked like the biggest villa in Hera Gardens—spacious, elegant, and terrifyingly expensive. Every corner sparkled with wealth. She couldn't decide whether to be amazed or afraid, but one thing was certain, she didn't belong here.
Captured by her thoughts, Athen didn't hear the sound of a car pulling up outside. What snapped her out of it was the sudden chorus of greetings echoing through the hallway—"Master Yates."
Her head turned instinctively toward the door. And there he was. The man from last night. The one she had mistaken for the producer.
He walked in with that same calm, intimidating aura that made the air grow heavier with every step he took. His presence alone commanded respect. Dressed in a dark suit that fit him perfectly, tall, broad-shouldered, and effortlessly composed, he was the kind of man who didn't need attention but got it anyway.
Athen froze for a second, her breath catching. 'He's blindingly good looking!' she thought. Swallowing hard, she stood up quickly, ready to greet him, maybe even apologize, but he walked right past her, like she didn't even exist.
He went straight past her and disappeared behind a long, quiet hallway without sparing her a glance. Athen's lips twitched as she clicked her tongue and murmured under her breath, "If I had that kind of money, I'd be just as arrogant as him."
She plopped back down onto the sofa, feeling a mix of annoyance and disbelief. For a moment, she stared at the hallway he'd vanished into, then huffed softly and reached for the glass of juice the maid had served her earlier. Lifting it to her lips, she downed the rest in one go before setting it back on the table with a faint clink.
After a full thirty minutes, Athen had started dozing off, her head bobbing slightly as sleep crept in. She was exhausted. A soft voice startled her awake. "Miss, Master Yates is waiting for you in the dining room," a maid said politely.
Rubbing her eyes, Athen stood and followed the maid through the wide, elegant hallway. When they reached the dining area, her jaw nearly dropped. The long table was covered with food that looked straight out of a five-star restaurant — perfectly plated dishes, fresh fruit, steaming soup, and even wine. But what stunned her most was the _amount_ of food. It looked like they were expecting guests.
And there he was again — that man who hadn't even looked at her earlier, seated calmly at the head of the table like a king. Right then Athen felt like if possible she would've rolled her eyes deeply.
Athen wanted to sit as far away from him as possible — maybe at the other end of the long table where she could breathe without feeling his presence. But before she could move, the maid gently pulled out a chair right beside Malachi, on his left side.
"Thank you," Athen muttered awkwardly, forcing a polite smile before sitting down.
The maid began serving her plate, small portions of delicately arranged food that looked more like art than a meal. Athen was starving, but the dishes looked too fancy, too foreign. She didn't even know where to start. This wasn't the kind of food you just dug into; it was the kind you had to think about before touching.
Meanwhile, Malachi ate quietly, every movement precise and graceful. His fork and knife moved in perfect rhythm, not a sound, not a single wasted motion. Athen sneaked a glance at him, then quickly looked away when his calm, sharp gaze flicked toward her. The air around him was heavy, commanding.
She picked up her spoon and began to eat carefully, trying to copy his pace, but her hand trembled slightly. The silence in the room felt loud , the only sounds were the faint clinks of her cutlery.
She tried to eat slowly, mimicking his calm rhythm, but it wasn't easy. Every bite felt like a test, chew too fast and she looked uncultured, chew too slow and she looked nervous. By the time Malachi was done, she was only halfway through her plate, but she quickly dropped her fork and stopped too.
He was her beneficiary, she couldn't dare to piss him off.
She reached for the glass and poured herself some water, trying to act composed even though her throat was dry. The cold water felt refreshing, but before she could set the glass down, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor made her flinch.
Malachi stood up, fixing the cuffs of his shirt with quiet precision. Then, in that same deep, commanding voice that left no room for argument, he said,
"Follow me."