I slammed the bag shut, anger rushing through me so fast it made my hands tremble. Seriously? She still manages to get into my head even when she's not here.
God.
I breathed out, forcing myself to calm down. The closet was empty — and honestly, that was exactly how it should be. This was my first time being here, and it's not like we dated or knew each other long enough for my clothes to magically be waiting. Everything would probably be brought tomorrow or the day after.
I ran my fingers through my hair, letting the frustration settle, when something on the shelf caught my eye.
A neatly folded nightwear set.
I stepped closer.
It was a champagne satin shirt-and-trousers set — smooth, soft, and expensive-looking. The fabric slid between my fingers like water. Beside it was a pair of plush, fluffy slippers that looked like they were made for royalty.
My chest loosened immediately.
Relief.
Real, surprising relief.
Because what would I have worn?
Definitely not the cursed things in my luggage.
And calling a maid to ask for clothes?
Absolutely not.
I was already preparing to sleep naked.
I put on the nightwear, and damn — it was cool, buttery soft, perfect against my skin. The slippers matched the fluffy rug like they belonged together.
Thank God she at least packed my body care.
I pulled out my body oil, hair oil, perfume, and lip balm from the bag and moved to the vanity.
My body oil warmed between my palms before melting into my skin as I massaged it in. Then my chamomile hair oil — brushing my hair gently so it rested in soft curls. Vanilla and coco perfume on my collarbone, behind my ears, and on my wrists. Finally, a soft swipe of lip balm.
I exhaled slowly.
The room was beginning to smell like me, and I liked it. I've never been a fan of strong scents — I'm allergic to most. These oils and perfumes were chosen for a reason.
I sat on the bed afterwards, leaning back a little.
Then the hunger hit.
My stomach growled loud enough to echo.
Right.
I hadn't eaten anything since morning — aside from that useless glass of juice my mother forced down my throat.
Another growl.
Even louder.
I was starving.
Like tears-pricking-my-eyes starving.
I didn't know how things worked in this house. Was everyone asleep? Was there some rule about asking for food? Should I call a maid? Should I just suffer in silence?
I hated not knowing.
I picked up my phone from the nightstand.
9:10 p.m.
If I were home, my mother would have ordered me to sleep by now — because an omega "must look radiant."
But I wasn't sleepy.
And I didn't feel like being on my phone.
And my stomach sounded like it was protesting for freedom.
I stood up, debating whether I should starve with dignity or embarrass myself with a request… when a soft knock tapped on my door.
My heart jumped.
I opened it.
A maid stood there, head bowed respectfully.
"Hope I didn't disturb you," she said softly. "Lord Lucian requests your presence in the dining hall. He said you should come down to eat."
Thank, god.
I nodded quickly, stepping out as she closed the door behind me.
We walked down the stairs, her keeping a respectful distance behind me. When we reached the sitting room, she guided me into the dining area.
And then I saw it.
This house…
It looked like something out of a polished luxury magazine.
Everything is perfect. Smooth. Cold. Beautiful.
And at the far end of the long dining table…
Lucian sat there.
Waiting.
His eyes were already on me the moment I stepped into the room — hot, steady, unwavering. Like he'd been waiting for only me.
His gaze followed me with a sharpness that made my heart thump once, hard, before settling into a strange rhythm.
He didn't speak.
He didn't look away.
Just watched me like I was something rare.
Something crafted.
Something he wasn't sure he deserved to touch.
I swallowed quietly.
This house might be unfamiliar.
My new life might be forced.
But at least…
I wouldn't be dining alone tonight.