Chapter 3 Alone with him

Bryan pulled her into a warm embrace, and for a moment, she clung to him, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne. She felt safe in his arms, but the safety was fleeting.

"Come on, you're twenty," she muttered under her breath, scolding herself as she blinked back the tears threatening to spill. She wouldn't cry-not in front of Ryan.

Pulling back, she forced a smile. "Take care of yourself, Dad."

Bryan smiled back, his eyes shining with a mix of pride and reluctance. "You too, kiddo." He turned to Ryan. "Thanks again, man."

Ryan gave him a tight nod. "Safe travels."

As Bryan walked to his car, Amelia thought she noticed a brief exchange of glances between her father and Ryan. It was fleeting, almost imperceptible, but something about it made her pause. She shook the thought away, convincing herself it was nothing.

When the car's engine roared to life, Amelia stood on the front steps, waving as her father pulled away. The sight of his car disappearing down the driveway left her feeling hollow, as though a piece of her had been taken along for the ride.

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Amelia turned toward Ryan, who stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable.

"Well," he said, his voice cool and detached. "Welcome to my home."

His tone sent a chill down her spine, and Amelia felt her stomach knot. He looked at her as though she were a burden he had no choice but to tolerate.

"Thank you," she said quietly, her earlier bravery shrinking under the weight of his intense gaze.

Ryan's eyes flicked over her briefly, assessing, before he turned and started up the staircase. "Come on," he said over his shoulder. "I'll show you to your room."

Amelia hesitated for a moment before following, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished marble floor.

As they ascended the stairs, she couldn't help but study him from behind. He moved with an effortless grace, his broad shoulders and strong frame a testament to the kind of confidence money and power could buy. But there was something else-something darker. It was as if he'd built an invisible wall around himself, keeping the world at bay.

When they reached the top of the staircase, Ryan led her down a long hallway lined with artwork. He stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

"This will be your room," he said, stepping aside to let her enter.

Amelia walked in and looked around. The room was spacious and elegantly decorated, with a king-sized bed, a writing desk, and a large window that offered a stunning view of the estate. It was more luxurious than anything she'd ever imagined, but it felt cold and impersonal, much like the man who owned it.

"Thank you," she said again, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ryan didn't respond immediately. Instead, he leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched her. "We'll set some ground rules tomorrow," he said finally, his tone sharp." For now, get some rest."

Amelia nodded, avoiding his gaze. She heard the door click softly as he left, and she let out a shaky breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

She sank onto the edge of the bed, her mind racing. Being in Ryan's house was going to be harder than she'd thought. There was an undeniable pull between them, a tension that crackled in the air whenever they were near each other. But he clearly wanted nothing to do with her.

She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

Why does he look at me like I'm a problem he didn't ask for? she wondered, her thoughts swirling as exhaustion finally pulled her under.

*****************

Amelia woke with a start, the soft light of dawn streaming through her window. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand-it was barely 6 a.m., but she was too restless to go back to sleep. Stretching lazily, she sat up and pushed her hair out of her face.

This is my chance, she thought. If she was going to be stuck here, she might as well try to make a good impression.

Slipping out of bed, she pulled on a sweater and padded quietly down the hallway. The house was eerily silent, the kind of silence that made every sound echo a little louder. When she reached the kitchen, she paused for a moment, taking in the sleek, modern design. It was enormous, the kind of kitchen you'd expect in a mansion like this, with gleaming countertops and high-end appliances she didn't even know how to use.

Rolling up her sleeves, Amelia decided to stick to something simple. Scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. She moved quickly, trying not to make too much noise as she worked. The scent of coffee soon filled the air, mingling with the buttery aroma of the eggs.

Once everything was ready, she plated two servings and carefully arranged them on a tray. One for herself and one for Ryan. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if taking food to his room was overstepping.

It's just breakfast, she told herself. No big deal.

Balancing the tray, she made her way through the winding hallways until she reached Ryan's door. She knocked softly and waited, but there was no answer. Frowning, she knocked again, a little louder this time.

Still nothing.

She pushed the door open cautiously, peeking inside. The room was massive, with a king-sized bed neatly made and a wall of windows letting in the soft morning light. But it was empty.

Where could he be this early? she wondered, placing the tray on a nearby table.

As she turned to leave, something caught her eye at the end of the hallway-a door slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of another room. Curiosity got the better of her, and she walked toward it, her steps tentative.