The night had settled into an eerie stillness, but inside Eleanor's mind, a storm raged.
Alexander's touch still lingered on her skin, his lips still burned against hers, and yet—he had stepped away.
She stood in the dimly lit hallway of the Blackthorne estate, staring at him. His fingers were still wrapped around hers, warm, steady. But there was hesitation in his grip, as if he was battling a war within himself.
"Eleanor," he said, his voice low, rough. "This… whatever this is between us, it's dangerous."
Her pulse hammered in her throat. "I don't care."
"You should." His thumb brushed against her knuckles, almost absentmindedly. "People who get close to me don't end up safe."
She studied him carefully. He wasn't just warning her. He was afraid. Not for himself—but for her.
"Then tell me the truth," she whispered.
His jaw tensed. "About what?"
She took a step closer, refusing to let him escape this time. "About the Red Chamber. About Lucian Vale. About why someone tried to kill you tonight."
Alexander sighed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. "You don't want to know."
"I do."
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought he was going to push her away again. But then, his grip on her tightened.
"Fine," he muttered. "But not here."
---
The Hidden Room
Alexander led her through a series of corridors, past grand portraits and doors that had never been opened in her presence before. The further they went, the quieter the house became.
Finally, he stopped in front of a heavy wooden door at the end of a secluded hallway.
"This room doesn't exist," he said, pulling out a key from his pocket.
Eleanor arched an eyebrow. "Then what's behind it?"
Alexander slid the key into the lock, turning it with a soft click. "Secrets."
The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit study lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The scent of old parchment and leather filled the air. A large mahogany desk stood at the center, covered in neatly stacked files and maps.
Eleanor stepped inside, her fingers grazing the spine of an old book. "What is this place?"
Alexander shut the door behind them. "My father's war room."
Her breath hitched. The late patriarch of the Blackthorne family—Victor Blackthorne—had been a legend. Ruthless. Powerful. Feared.
And now, standing in this room, she could feel the weight of his presence lingering in the air.
Alexander walked to the desk, picking up a file before handing it to her. "Lucian Vale isn't just another businessman, Eleanor. He's a kingmaker. He deals in information, in blackmail. If he's interested in you, it's not by accident."
Eleanor opened the file, scanning the contents. Photos, reports, hidden transactions. A chill ran down her spine. "He's dangerous."
Alexander nodded. "And worse, he knows things about my family that even I don't."
She looked up at him. "Like what?"
He hesitated. Then, finally, "Like the real reason my father was killed."
Eleanor's grip on the file tightened. The official story had always been an accident. But deep down, she had always suspected that wasn't the truth.
"What are you saying?" she asked carefully.
Alexander's gaze locked onto hers. "I'm saying that my father was murdered. And I think Lucian knows who did it."
A silence stretched between them, heavy with implications.
Eleanor took a shaky breath. "And what does that have to do with me?"
Alexander's expression hardened. "That's what I need to find out."
She swallowed, the weight of his words settling over her. She was in deeper than she had ever imagined.
And yet—she wasn't afraid.
She stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest. "Whatever happens next, you don't have to face it alone."
Alexander's breath caught. His hand came up to cover hers, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles against her skin.
"You say that now," he murmured. "But once you know the whole truth…"
She reached up, pressing a soft kiss against his jaw. "I'm not leaving."
His hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer. "You should."
She smiled against his skin. "Make me."
A low growl rumbled in his chest, and then his lips were on hers again—hungry, possessive, demanding.
She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as he backed her against the desk. His hands roamed her body, memorizing every curve, every shiver.
And for the first time since stepping into this dangerous world—Eleanor wasn't afraid of the darkness.
Because in his arms, she had already found the light.
---
Next Chapter: The Game Begins
With secrets unraveling and danger closing in, Alexander and Eleanor's bond is tested like never before. But as enemies grow bolder, will their love be enough to survive the war that's coming?