The storm raged across the night sky, lightning illuminating the jagged silhouette of Thornhaven Manor perched on the cliffside. Ivy Whitmore gripped the steering wheel of her battered car, her knuckles white as the rain lashed against her windshield. She wasn't sure what possessed her to take the job as the caretaker of a crumbling estate in the middle of nowhere, but the desperation to escape her past had made her reckless.
"Just a few more miles," she muttered, squinting through the rain at the winding road ahead. Her GPS had died an hour ago, leaving her to rely on a handwritten map provided by her employer—a mysterious benefactor she'd yet to meet. The directions were scrawled in ink so dark it might as well have been blood.
Thornhaven Manor loomed before her as she turned into the gravel driveway, its turrets and arches like something out of a gothic nightmare. The house exuded power and darkness, and for a fleeting moment, Ivy wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake.
A clap of thunder startled her, and she bolted out of the car, tugging her hood over her head as she rushed toward the massive oak doors. The iron knocker, shaped like a roaring beast, was ice-cold beneath her fingers. She pounded it against the door, her heart thundering in her chest.
When the door creaked open, Ivy's breath caught.
Standing before her was a man—a towering figure draped in shadow. His broad shoulders filled the doorway, and his presence made her shiver. The flickering light of the candelabra he held revealed sharp, chiseled features partially obscured by the fall of unruly black hair. But it was his eyes—golden, intense, and unrelenting—that held her captive.
"You're late," he said, his voice a low growl that sent heat pooling in Ivy's stomach.
"I—sorry, the storm—" she stammered, struggling to keep her composure.
He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. "You'll find excuses useless here. Time doesn't bend for the weak."
Ivy hesitated, her pulse racing. Everything about him screamed danger, but something else simmered beneath the surface—something raw and magnetic. She stepped inside, the warmth of the manor a stark contrast to the icy rain outside.
"Your name?" he demanded, setting the candelabra down on a marble table.
"Ivy Whitmore," she replied, tugging her coat tighter around her. "And you must be… Mr. Ashford?"
"Call me Gabriel." His lips curved into a humorless smile, though it failed to soften the hard lines of his face.
She swallowed, taking in her surroundings. The manor's interior was breathtakingly opulent yet hauntingly cold. Velvet curtains, gilded mirrors, and dark wood accents spoke of forgotten wealth, but the flickering shadows seemed to whisper secrets Ivy wasn't sure she wanted to uncover.
"I'll show you to your quarters," Gabriel said, his tone curt. He led her down a long corridor, his strides purposeful, forcing Ivy to quicken her pace to keep up.
"Is it just you here?" she asked, her voice tentative as her heels clicked against the stone floor.
"For now," he replied, glancing at her over his shoulder. His gaze lingered for a beat too long, and Ivy felt her cheeks flush under its weight.
They stopped at a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall. Gabriel pushed it open, revealing a bedroom that was surprisingly warm and inviting. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting golden light over a plush bed adorned with dark silk sheets.
"You'll stay here," he said, his voice softer now, though no less commanding.
"Thank you," Ivy murmured, stepping into the room. She turned to face him, only to find him standing closer than she'd expected.
"There are rules," Gabriel said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "You'll keep to your duties, avoid the west wing, and never wander the grounds after dark. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Ivy whispered, though her curiosity prickled at the restrictions.
He held her gaze for a moment longer, the air between them charged. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, leaving Ivy to catch her breath.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Ivy leaned against the bedpost, her heart racing. There was something about Gabriel Ashford—something dangerous, yes, but undeniably alluring.
And though she couldn't explain it, she knew her arrival at Thornhaven Manor was only the beginning of a story that would shatter every boundary she'd ever known.