First mission… Find out about the scar.
But the moment I woke up, all I could think about was the kiss from last night.
Morning light spilled through the window, golden and soft, yet my chest tightened as I wrapped the sheet around myself.
"No," I whispered. "I don't want to see him."
Why?
Because I was mortified.
"Stupid, stupid me," I muttered, biting my tongue hard. "I should've stopped it. He's dangerous."
My gaze shifted to the table clock. The hands pointed at 7 a.m.—and that's when I heard the front door creak open, then click shut.
I froze.
Footsteps echoed faintly down the hallway. They didn't fade—they grew louder, nearing my door.
I held my breath.
Was Anthony coming in?
My heart pounded as I stared wide-eyed at the handle. But after a pause, the footsteps began to retreat.
I exhaled slowly, relief washing over me like cool water.
By 8 a.m., I was already dressed for the day.
Of course, none of the fluffy polos or loose trousers were anywhere in sight. Just my luck.
So I slipped into the classic blue dress—the one that clung slightly too well—and pulled my blonde hair into a neat twist.
A swipe of red gloss brightened my lips. I stepped into a pair of flats, unsure what the day would bring.
Was there any task waiting for me? Probably not—Anthony was out. But that didn't mean I could relax.
No. I needed to stop thinking about the kiss. About the way his lips felt.
I had a bigger mission: uncover who he truly was.
If I was going to survive in this dangerous world, I needed to know exactly what I was up against.
I picked up my phone and glanced at the screen. Just my pale face as the wallpaper—no missed calls.
Not that I expected one from Dad... but still.
With a sigh, I rose from the swing and headed to the dining room.
The space was dimly lit with warm, golden lights that softened the air. A familiar scent of toast and coffee lingered. The housekeeper stood by the table, apron tied neatly around her waist, her face lit up in a cheerful smile.
"Good morning, Mrs. Blake."
Ah, the formalities.
I returned her smile. "Morning, Mrs... uhmm..."
"Mary," she supplied kindly. "You can call me Mary."
I smiled, a bit sheepish. "Mrs. Mary. I'm sorry about yesterday."
She waved a hand dismissively. "Think nothing of it. Your breakfast is ready."
And with that, she turned and walked away.
A voice, cold and clear, cut through the soft hum of the room.
"You're late."
I froze, drawn toward the table.
Anthony.
He sat at the far end, his presence quietly commanding. He wore a casual blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms. My eyes dropped to my own outfit—also blue.
Seriously? Were we matching now?
His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those sharp, glacier-blue eyes—narrowed at me, scanning slowly. Thoroughly.
"It's almost nine," he said, tone clipped. "Won't you be late for work?"
Work?
I blinked. I had only stepped out because I thought he'd left already.
"I... I thought you were gone," I said. "You're staying home today?"
He nodded. "I am."
"You are…" I blinked again, caught off guard. "What?"
"I seem to have a very strange woman in my house," he muttered dryly. "Surely, I'll have to show her how things are done."
Huh? Did he think I couldn't handle myself just because he was gone?
If I wanted, I could ask the housekeeper or even his receptionist more about him. He wasn't that untouchable.
"Come. Sit," he said, motioning to the seat beside him.
I nodded and obeyed. The moment I sat down, a warm, clean scent drifted from his side—freshly washed and unmistakably male.
Heaven help me. How was I supposed to survive this man every day?
Anthony rolled up his sleeves, revealing the lean strength in his forearms. I caught myself staring as he uncovered the dish in front of me.
An omelet, seared steak, golden pancakes, sliced avocado, and bright red tomatoes greeted my eyes.
"You need to eat," he said simply, turning to his own plate—just steak and avocado.
I frowned. "You need more food too."
I pushed a portion of the omelet and a slice of baked brown bread toward him.
Anthony gave me a brief look, his brows narrowing. "I don't eat omelets."
"Why not?" I flashed him a teasing smile, hoping to break through his cold front.
He didn't smile back. Just shrugged and sliced into his steak without a word.
Huh. Okay then.
I didn't press further. Instead, I focused on my own plate, letting the flavors distract me.
The pancakes were soft and fluffy, soaked in honey. Sweet, rich, and warm—it felt like a small luxury in the middle of this strange arrangement we had.
With the food in front of me, I barely glanced at Anthony as I took a mouthful of omelet and pancake.
"Mmm… this is so good," I murmured, savoring the buttery texture and sweet drizzle of honey.
I didn't even realize Anthony had stopped eating—until I caught him staring.
"Here," he said, pulling my attention toward him. "Your food is drooling."
I blinked in confusion, just as his fingers reached forward and gently wiped a trace of honey from the corner of my lips.
The moment his skin brushed mine, I felt it—that electric spark.
The same one I'd felt when he kissed me.
Suddenly, the kiss was all I could think about.
And judging from the way his fingers lingered against my lips, the way his gaze locked there like a man entranced, I was certain he was thinking the same thing.
I inhaled sharply, my breath catching.
Was this it?
Was he finally going to kiss me again?
Yes—he was. Because Anthony leaned in, and the cold detachment in his eyes melted into something darker... hotter. Lust.
And I didn't stop him.
I didn't want to.
Whatever pull this was, I didn't care anymore. I leaned in too.
Yes, kiss me... this is it—
RING. RING.
His phone rang. Loud and sharp.
We both snapped back like fire had licked our skin, blinking as the spell shattered.
Silence fell between us—awkward, charged—and we drifted apart, pretending nothing had almost happened.
"I have to take this," he said, rising from the table and grabbing his phone.
"Hello…" His voice trailed off as he walked out of the room, disappearing down the hallway.
But inside my head, my thoughts were screaming.
What am I doing?
This was a man I had met only yesterday.
"Water," I muttered, grabbing a glass and downing it in one long gulp. The cool liquid didn't soothe the heat in my chest.
I turned to glare at the door he'd just walked through.
"If this is your scheme, Anthony, it won't work," I whispered fiercely. "I'll find out who you really are—and what kind of danger you're in."
Hmph.
I dragged my gaze back to the half-eaten food in front of me, staring at it absently.
His world is dangerous… and now I'm in it.
If I wanted to survive, I had no choice.
I'd have to save myself.