I rang the bell. A moment later, the heavy doors opened without a sound. I stepped in and my eyes stretched wide. The place was stunning. Tall walls, floor-to-ceiling glass windows, and grey curtains that hung like lazy waves, brushing the glossy marble floors. A modern chandelier hovered above like it didn't belong in a regular house, and there, right in the middle of the room, was a small fountain gurgling like some fancy spa.
In one corner, a sweeping staircase curled up to the next floor like it knew it was too pretty to hide. I thought I knew luxury. I'd been born with a gold spoon practically taped to my mouth. But this? This was something else. My jaw was close to hitting the floor.
"Missy."
The voice startled me, nearly made me jump out of my skin. I turned around. He was standing right behind me, just near the door I'd walked through. Had he been there the whole time? Why hadn't he said anything?
His face didn't show even a hint of that slap from yesterday. Like it never happened.
"Hi, Mister Donovan." First time I'd said his name out loud. It felt awkward. Too polite. Too formal.
He didn't respond. Just walked past me, calm as ever. He wasn't in his usual suit today. Instead, he wore a plain round-neck tee and loose cargos. The tattoos on his arms were still hidden under the long sleeves, but I remembered them. Way too well. I was still curious.
"What brings you here? Thought you'd be avoiding me after yesterday." He spoke while switching the TV on and throwing himself onto the couch like none of this mattered.
I stared, heat rising in my chest. Did he not notice the way I'd dressed today? The effort I'd made? I'd highlighted my collarbones, picked out this stupid top. But apparently, I was invisible.
"I came to apologize," I said quietly.
"Apology accepted. You can leave now."
That was it?
"Huh?" I blinked. "That's all you've got to say?"
"Hey!" My voice snapped. "You're seriously ignoring me like I'm just standing here doing nothing? Is the TV really that interesting that you can't look at a living, breathing person right in front of you?"
He gave me a look. Blank. Then raised an eyebrow.
"Missy. Don't try me."
I stared. "What are you gonna do, huh? I will try you."
He turned away again, like I wasn't even worth a glance. I felt something bitter twist inside.
"What kind of person doesn't even offer a drink to someone visiting their house?" I muttered, knowing damn well he wouldn't bother answering.
"You're not a guest. You showed up uninvited."
"And how was I supposed to inform you? It's not like you left me with a number or anything."
"Why would I give you my number?"
I laughed. Dry. Frustrated. "God, you're stupid."
He looked calm, but I was starting to crack.
"Can't you tell I'm here for you?"
"Missy, I told you. Don't push me. I'm not your boyfriend. Don't treat me like one."
I'd had it. I walked straight to the couch and dropped onto it next to him. "I'm not leaving."
He didn't say anything for a while, just kept his eyes on the screen. Then finally, he spoke.
"Your father will tear down my company if he finds out you're here."
He didn't sound scared. Just matter-of-fact.
"Are you scared of him?" I asked, watching him closely.
He glanced my way and smirked. "Right now? He's should be more scared of me. Especially with you sitting this close to me."
His voice dipped lower. Something about it made the air between us a little heavier.
"You won't hurt me." I was confident as I said that but he gave out a brief chuckle.
"Who watches a movie without snacks?" I asked, trying to cut through the tension.
"I do."
"Well, I need food. I didn't even have breakfast. My boyfriend was too busy laughing at something stupid."
He turned to look at me sharply. "What do you want?"
"You," I said with a grin.
He closed his eyes, exhaled, and shook his head. "Apart from that." "Anything. But let me help out."
"Alright." He got up and walked toward the open kitchen. It was sleek. Clean. Almost too perfect. Like him. "I need you to chop some tomatoes," he said, tossing a few my way.
I caught them with way more confidence than I had, pulling out a cutting board like I knew what I was doing. The truth was, I had zero clue. But I wasn't about to pass up time beside him.
I shrugged off my jacket, making sure the outfit underneath worked like I'd planned. I saw his glance shift, just a second too long.
"You don't own proper clothes?" he asked, looking genuinely puzzled.
"I thought you were checking me out," I muttered. "But clearly you're some monk in disguise."
I rolled my eyes and tried to slice a tomato. It rolled off the board, right onto my finger.
"Ouch!"
He turned fast, walked over, grabbed my hand, and stared at the cut.
"You don't know how to chop vegetables?" he asked, stunned.
"No, but I was trying to help!"
He ran a hand down his face, sighed, and then stepped closer. His hands touched my waist and, before I could say a word, he lifted me up and sat me on the counter like I weighed nothing.
"Just sit here." he said and retracted his hands. I had forgotten how to breath in that moment.
He came back with a bandage, wrapped my finger carefully, then gave me a dry look.
"I think I'll just order something."
I nodded quick.
We walked back to the couch. He was busy texting, and just as I sat down, the movie on screen changed to something... graphic. Two characters tangled together. I gasped.
He walked up to the screen, probably to switch it off. I yanked the remote and did it myself, curling up tight on the seat.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Nothing." I turned my face, cheeks burning.
A moment later, the doorbell rang. He got up and brought back the food.
"What the— You just ordered it!" I blinked.
"Yeah, I know." He set it up with clean plates and fancy cutlery. Served me like a gentleman. Then went back to the TV like it was nothing.
He left me alone to eat? Was he not eating?
The thoughts vanished the moment I took my first bite. My stomach practically sang. I hadn't even realized how hungry I was.
When I finished, I cleaned up, placed the dishes in the dishwasher, and walked back to the living room... only to find him sitting in my spot.
"Oh, I thought you weren't hungry, so I threw out the rest," I said, trying to sound innocent.
He tilted his head. "Now what?"
"I can order something for you," I said, letting my voice drop just enough to be obvious. "Or… there's always dessert. If you'd like that."
Donovan didn't move for a second. Just sat there. Then he got up.
"Where is it?" he asked, walking off like he was actually going to look for cake.
I stared at him, my patience snapping in half. "Are you serious? I was talking about me, you idiot."
He stopped mid-step, his shoulders stiff. Then slowly turned to look at me. His expression was unreadable, but I could feel it — that shift in the air. Like something just snapped in him, too.
"Missy," he said, and it came out like a warning. His voice dipped low, deeper than before, and it rolled through me like thunder. "I told you… Stop playing with me."
He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back roughly. His sleeve slipped down a bit, revealing more of that inked skin I'd been dying to see. A black pattern curled down his forearm, something sharp and chaotic. Just like him.
"Go find someone your own age and mess with them," he added, quieter this time.
"I'm not a kid." My voice cracked. "Stop treating me like I am."
I wasn't exactly pleased, he knew that, but before we could go any further, the doorbell rang.
Donovan didn't even glance at me the second time. The next thing I knew, a woman walked in.
She was gorgeous. Dressed in a black, skin-hugging dress that left nothing to the imagination. Red lipstick. Smoky eyes. She looked expensive from head to toe, like she belonged in magazines and cocktail parties where people wore names instead of clothes.
"Don," she said, her voice low and a little too soft as she stepped inside. She leaned in, lips brushing his cheek slowly —not a fast greeting, not a casual one either. The kind that said they had history.
And he didn't pull away. Didn't flinch.
He just let it happen.
Her hand stayed on his chest casually, and his hand on her lower back sat so naturally it was irritating. She finally glanced in my direction. Her gaze dragged across me like she was trying to figure out if I was the help or a stray he forgot to kick out.
"Oh," she said, smirking a little. "Who's that, Don? I didn't know you were babysitting now."
She laughed lightly like it was harmless, but every word dug under my skin.
I couldn't speak. I couldn't even look away. Something started to twist inside my chest, sharp and hot. I didn't know what I was feeling exactly, but it wasn't good. My throat tightened, and suddenly my eyes burned. I blinked hard, but a tear still slipped out.
Just one. He didn't notice.
Or maybe he did and didn't care.
The sight of the two of them standing that close her touching him, laughing like she belonged there, and him letting her made something inside me snap.
I turned and walked out, I didn't look back. Didn't wait for him to stop me. If he wanted to, he would've. And he didn't.