TERESA'S P.O.V.
The mansion was filled with the kind of stillness that always reminded me of an ancient library. Tall, stately bookshelves stretched against the walls in certain rooms, and there was a comforting scent—cedar wood and the faintest hint of Lucian's cologne, something dark and subtly spicy that lingered around me like a ghost. The place was so vast, filled with rooms that led to more rooms, that I'd managed to get lost almost every day during my first week here. Lucian had laughed at that—well, not really laughed, just a smirk. The closest thing I'd ever seen him do to smile.
It had been three weeks since I moved in, and I was finally getting familiar with the place, enough to not have panic attacks whenever I accidentally wandered into yet another mysterious corridor. And as I got more comfortable here, I was also slowly getting used to the people.
Not that they all liked me. I caught the glares sometimes, especially from the younger women on the estate. They'd size me up when they thought Lucian wasn't looking, their eyes sharp, as if I was some stranger trespassing on sacred ground. Not that I wasn't a stranger. I was still the "new girl," timid, naive Teresa who'd somehow landed in the orbit of Lucian Blackwood. Most of them seemed to hate me on sight, which was confusing at first—until I noticed they turned sweet as sugar if Lucian so much as looked their way. But he didn't look, not at them. He looked at me sometimes though. But it was always in that strange, guarded way, like he was torn between telling me something and running as far away from me as he could.
I mean, Lucian wasn't just your everyday rich, charismatic guy—he had an aura about him, something almost... otherworldly. Sometimes, when he'd pass by, I felt this strange shiver crawl down my spine, like he was carrying some deep, powerful secret.
He was unfailingly polite, charming even, but in a way that kept you at arm's length. I'd find myself holding my breath whenever he spoke to me, his words laced with a combination of sarcasm and an edge that made me feel a bit dizzy. I'd stare at his sharp jaw, the way his eyes would pierce right through me, and my heart would race. I couldn't help it; I was starting to fall for him, hard. Not that I'd ever admit it, of course.
I'd made friends, though, which helped keep my mind off my foolish feelings. Max, Juliette's younger brother, was always cracking jokes, and Britney and Katrina would drag me along for shopping trips and movie nights. They even convinced me to help out with something they called "cleaning duty," which I wasn't exactly thrilled about but did anyway, happy to be useful. And Juliette, bless her, was my self-appointed bodyguard. She followed me everywhere, which had felt weird at first, but now her presence was like a security blanket. I didn't realize how comforting her quiet, watchful gaze could be until I grew used to it.
One evening, I shuffled down the hall, glancing at the polished walls that gleamed like they'd been polished with the tears of the young women who often threw me nasty looks whenever I passed by.
"Are you coming with us tonight?" Max asked, leaning against the doorway with his usual cheeky grin.
"Tonight?" I blinked. My cheeks felt warm just from the way his friendly smile felt like a rare normality in this surreal world. "What's tonight?"
"Movie night. We're finally dragging Lucian out of his lair." Max winked, clearly finding the idea both exciting and impossible.
"Lucian? Out? With us?" I laughed, trying not to think about how my heart sped up at the thought of sitting next to him. "Are you sure he won't lock himself in his office and pretend we don't exist?"
Max shrugged, grinning. "We'll just bribe him with his favorite scotch. Works every time."
Juliette, who was sitting next to me, rolled her eyes but smiled fondly. "You do realize Teresa is the only one Lucian would even consider leaving his office for, right?"
My face went pink, and I stammered, "I—I'm sure that's not true." But my heart betrayed me by doing a little flip at the thought.
I'd never been good at hiding my feelings, and with Lucian, it was an impossible task. I had promised myself after the whole Mark incident, never to fall in love again but every time I saw Lucian, it felt like I was drawn into some kind of magnetic field I couldn't escape. I'd find myself just standing there, watching him talk with that rich, sarcastic voice, watching the way he moved with a sort of quiet, lethal grace. It was as though he existed in a world far above mine, a world where everything about him was intense, compelling, and just slightly dangerous. And even though I knew–after a few failed attempts in my early days here of trying to spend time with him–he was keeping himself at arm's length, that only made me want to get closer.
Maybe I was foolish, or just hopelessly naive, but I'd started to imagine little things—what it might be like to have him actually look at me, really look at me, and smile like he did sometimes when he thought I wasn't looking. I dreamed about it, honestly, and I'd wake up feeling ridiculous, flustered, and just a bit guilty. Because who was I to expect anything from him? He'd already done so much for me, and for Luke. I didn't want to look ungrateful by asking for… more.
"Teresa, you're staring again," Juliette's voice broke me from my daydreams, her smirk mirroring Max's, and I shot her a look, but she just chuckled.
Just then, Lucian appeared around the corner. He looked perfectly composed, his suit tailored to perfection, every inch the enigma he was. His sharp gaze flicked over us, and for a second, his eyes settled on me. I could've sworn there was something there—a glimmer of warmth? No, that had to be my imagination.
"Ah, the miscreants are gathered," Lucian drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he looked at Max and Juliette. "What's the plan? Arson? Shoplifting?"
Max smirked. "Actually, movie night on the couch. And yes, you're coming."
Lucian raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching in what I suspected was the beginning of a smile. "Am I?"
"Yes," Juliette said firmly, crossing her arms. "And don't pretend like you're too busy, because we know you're not."
Lucian sighed, his expression shifting to one of mock surrender. "Fine. But don't expect me to sit through any ridiculous rom-coms."
I chuckled softly, trying to hide behind Max a little. "Noted. We'll find something tragic and dark to match your… aesthetic," I teased, surprising myself with the gentle jibe.
He shot me a look, his gaze sharpening as if he'd just noticed I was there. His mouth curved into a smirk, his eyes twinkling in that way that always made my heart skip. "Careful, Teresa. Don't bite off more than you can chew."
My cheeks flamed. I had no idea how he could turn a simple remark into something that left me so utterly flustered, but he managed it, as always, without even trying.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and sarcastic banter, with Lucian somehow managing to spend most of the time looking like he was tolerating us all, but secretly amused. By the time the movie started, I'd somehow ended up next to him on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between us.
And that's when I felt it—the familiar sparks when his skin touched mine and a warmth radiating from him that was intoxicating and… safe, somehow. His gaze was fixed on the screen, but I could feel his presence so intensely, like he was aware of every single thought going through my head.
I glanced up at him, half expecting him to be watching me, but he was entirely focused on the screen, a faint, almost content smile on his lips.
I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach. Maybe he was keeping me at arm's length, but that didn't mean I couldn't enjoy the moment. And for tonight, that was enough.
*******
In the quiet of evening, the next day, after a dinner filled with silent glances at Lucian and unfinished sentences, I found myself lingering by his study, resume in hand. I had listed my skills as he requested—art, administrative work, anything I thought might be useful. After that first day, when I impulsively mentioned I wanted to start job hunting, he'd asked for my resume, saying he might find me a role in one of his companies. But as days passed without mention of it, I decided to take the initiative and bring it to him myself. But as I stood there, suddenly, the thought of handing it to him seemed terrifying. What if he laughed? Or worse—dismissed it, like he did with my attempts at conversation?
I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders, and knocked softly on his door.
"Come in."
His voice carried that same low, rich tone, with an edge of impatience that I knew all too well by now. I stepped in, heart hammering, and felt the weight of his gaze as he looked up from his papers.
"Teresa." He arched an eyebrow. "Is everything alright?"
"Uh, yes. Yes, everything's fine. I just... I wanted to give you my résumé," I said, holding out the paper like a lifeline.
He took it with a slight frown, scanning the page with a bored expression. "You really want to work? I thought living here was enough to keep you... occupied."
"Oh, I—I don't want to just sit around doing nothing. I want to be... useful," I said, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.
He looked at me for a moment, his eyes unreadable. "Useful. Interesting word choice." There was a pause, then he sighed and handed the résumé back. "I'll look into it. But, Teresa, there's no need to be in such a rush. You're welcome here, whether you're working or not."
His words were kind, but there was a layer of sarcasm there too, something almost mocking. Like he was amused by my eagerness.
I swallowed, willing myself not to get flustered. "I just... I didn't want to seem ungrateful."
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze sharp and intent. "And you think being ungrateful would somehow change my mind?"
"No, I just thought—"
"Don't overthink it," he said with a faint smirk, his tone casual but cutting. "It's not a good look on you."
I huffed, frustrated, but he just continued to watch me with that maddening, amused expression. "You know, Lucian, not everyone can sit back and lounge around like... like..."
"Like me?" he finished, one eyebrow raised.
I clamped my mouth shut, feeling the heat rising in my face again. "I didn't say that."
"But you thought it." He chuckled softly, and the sound sent a shiver down my spine.
I wanted to be annoyed with him, to roll my eyes and storm out, but there was this way he looked at me—half amused, half... something else. Like he knew things he'd never say aloud. And I, with all my naïve romantic notions, was helpless against it.
So I stayed, fiddling with the edge of my sleeve, unsure of what else to say. The air between us grew heavier, thick with unspoken words. I could feel his gaze on me, assessing, perhaps wondering why I was still standing there.
Finally, he spoke, his voice softer, almost tired. "Teresa, go get some sleep. Don't worry about all this work nonsense. I'll handle it."
I nodded, feeling my heart sink a little. His distance was clear, and though he was kind in his way, it felt like I'd never truly reach him, not fully.
I turned to leave, a bit heartbroken but trying not to show it, when he called out, "Teresa."
I glanced back, surprised.
"Your dedication... It doesn't go unnoticed." He hesitated, just a fraction, before continuing, "And you look better with a bit of fire in your eyes. Keep it up."
It was a small thing—a glimmer of warmth in his otherwise guarded gaze. But for some reason, it made my heart leap, a foolish little spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than that cold, sarcastic exterior.
"Thank you," I whispered, smiling to myself as I stepped out of his study.