Chapter 3 The Mansion Project

CHAPTER THREE

Bellmore Estate sat on the edge of the city like a secret no one wanted to talk about. The long gravel driveway wound through overgrown trees and ended in front of a grand, stone mansion that looked like it belonged in an old money family's dark fairytale. Anika stepped out of her car and stared up at it, wind lifting her coat around her legs.

Gothic arches. Shuttered windows. Thick silence.

And him.

Elias stood on the porch, arms folded, black hoodie this time, watching her approach like he'd known the exact second she'd arrive.

"This place gives off serial killer energy," she muttered as she stepped onto the porch.

He tilted his head, unreadable. "You'll get used to it."

"Not exactly a glowing welcome."

"I wasn't hired for charm."

She arched a brow. "Clearly."

He opened the door and gestured for her to go inside.

The interior was worse than she expected. Dust coated every surface. Sheet-covered furniture lined the grand hallway. Light streamed through stained-glass windows that cast eerie colors across the cracked marble floors.

Anika took a slow spin, eyes wide. "It's like the Addams Family meets European luxury."

"I've kept it structurally sound," Elias said, his voice echoing. "No leaks. No intruders. Electricity's spotty in a few rooms, but I've got a backup generator."

She dropped her sketch bag by the stairs. "You live here?"

He nodded once. "In the west wing. Not many people can handle the quiet."

"So you haunt the place alone."

That time, she saw it-just the ghost of a smile at the corner of his lips. It vanished fast.

They walked through the rooms, him silent, her taking notes. The tension between them wasn't heavy exactly. It was charged-like standing too close to a fire without realizing you were cold.

In the old ballroom, she finally asked, "Do you ever talk about yourself?"

Elias glanced at her. "Rarely."

"That supposed to make you more mysterious or just hard to deal with?"

He turned to face her. "Is that what I am to you? Hard to deal with?"

She opened her mouth, then closed it. Damn him for flipping the question.

"I don't know yet," she said finally. "But you stare like you're studying me."

"I am."

Heat rushed to her cheeks before she could stop it. "Why?"

His answer came so low and so soft, she nearly missed it.

"Because you don't flinch easily."

For a second, neither of them moved.

Then thunder cracked above them-loud, deep. Anika jumped despite herself. The lights flickered once, twice... and went out.

"Seriously?" she groaned.

Elias turned toward the door. "Generator's in the basement. Come on."

She hesitated. "Is it safe?"

He glanced back. "Safer with me than without."

That shouldn't have made her feel something. But it did.

They descended narrow steps into the basement, flashlight beams dancing over cobwebs and stone walls. Anika stayed close, more for heat than fear-she told herself.

When he reached the generator and got to work, she caught herself staring again. His hands moved with practiced ease. His sleeves rolled up, revealing muscle and more scars-old, faded, painful-looking. She didn't ask. Not this time.

"You were in the military, weren't you?" she asked quietly.

He didn't look up. "Something like that."

"Special forces?"

He didn't answer.

"Private contractor?"

Still nothing.

She let out a soft breath. "You know, not every question is a trap."

He turned to face her. "No. But every answer becomes one if you give it to the wrong person."

And just like that, she understood something she hadn't before.

Elias Black wasn't just a man with a past.

He was a man still living inside it.