By 5 PM on Saturday, a sleek black car idled outside. The dormitory supervisor had already been informed of my absence. Of course they had.
As the driver pulled away, I gripped my dress tightly, my stomach twisting.
The Sinclair estate was a monument to excess, a display of power, wealth, and influence so meticulously crafted that it almost masked the rotting foundation it stood on.
It was beautiful. And yet, I felt none of the awe I should have. Because no matter how much polish was applied to these walls, I knew what lay beneath.
Power. Greed. Blood.
I stepped out of the sleek black car that had delivered me here, the hem of my dress brushing against the pristine marble driveway as I hesitated for just a second. But the moment passed quickly, because the doors to the estate had already opened.
And standing there, waiting for me, was Nathaniel. If I thought the estate was intimidating, he was worse.
Nathaniel exuded control. Everything from the pristine black suit he wore to the way he looked at me told me this was a guy who didn’t hear ‘no’ very often.
"Andrea," he greeted, his voice smooth, carefully measured, revealing nothing. "Nice to meet you, I’m Nathaniel."
He said it like we were strangers, like his name carried no weight, as if there was even a chance I wouldn’t know exactly who he was.
I lifted my chin slightly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a polite greeting.
"Please," I said flatly, "you don’t need to introduce yourself. We both know that it’s not like someone in the Academy has a chance not to be aware of who Nathaniel Sinclair is.”
A small, almost imperceptible smile flickered across his face, one that didn’t quite reach his cold, assessing eyes.
"I’ve heard about you," he mused, his tone deceptively light. His gaze traced over me, not with admiration, but like he was peeling back layers I didn’t even know I had. "I can see now that the rumors were accurate."
Then, his face hardened, the shift subtle but unmistakable, as though indulging in even this brief exchange had drained his patience.
"But let’s be clear about one thing," he continued, his voice still measured, but colder now, heavier. "I don’t have time for games, Andrea. And I certainly don’t have patience for attitude."
I knew he was waiting for some kind of reaction—a flinch, a stammer, some sign of submission.
I refused to give it to him.
Instead, I held his gaze, forcing my shoulders to stay level, steady, even as something inside me coiled tight.
The tension between us stretched, heavy and suffocating, a silent battle neither of us was willing to break first.
Then, another voice cut through the standoff, light and careless, yet unmistakably deliberate in its interruption.
"Nate, you can’t just go around scaring the guests—it’s terribly impolite." I didn’t have to look to know who it was.
Liam, with his usual unbothered smirk, strolled between us, his presence a stark contrast to the heavy energy Nathaniel carried.
He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t acknowledge whatever warning his older brother had been attempting to give me. Instead, he grabbed my hand and pulled me away, leading me deeper into the estate.
Liam gave a quick tour until we stepped outside into the garden where I finally let myself breathe.
It was beautiful. For the first time that night, I felt my shoulders relax. Liam noticed it.
"What do you think?" he asked, his voice quieter now, lacking the usual teasing edge.
I nodded before I could stop myself. "It’s... nice."
"Nice?" he repeated, feigning offense. "I personally think it’s unparalleled in beauty, but fine, if ‘nice’ is all you can muster—"
A laugh slipped past my lips before I could stop it.
Liam’s grin widened at the sound, pleased with himself, and for a moment, I found myself forgetting what he was. Forgetting what his family was.
We lingered in the garden, the conversation light, the easy back-and-forth banter distracting me from the unease that had sat in my stomach all night.
Then the conversation faded into silence. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable one.
Liam’s gaze settled on me, his usual smirk gone, replaced by something quieter. His fingers lifted, tracing the curve of my cheek, moving lightly to the corner of my lips.
The touch was barely there, but it sent a shiver down my spine. My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t move away.
The space between us grew smaller, the warmth of his breath brushing against my skin. His lips were just about to press against mine—
"Liam!"
The moment shattered.
Liam’s jaw tensed, his eyes flicking over my shoulder before he exhaled a long, frustrated sigh.
"Seems my dear brother won’t let this go," he muttered.
I turned just in time to see Damien standing near the entrance to the garden, his expression unreadable, but his tone firm.
Liam stepped back, his gaze lingering on me for a second before his smirk returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
"Don’t worry," he said smoothly. "We’ll get back to this."
Before I could process what that even meant, he turned and strode toward Damien. I exhaled, forcing myself to shake off the lingering warmth of his touch.
What the hell had just happened?
I needed to get inside. But the Sinclair estate was a damn maze.
I walked through the halls, retracing my steps, but every turn just led me further into unfamiliar territory.
I turned a corner, hesitating when I saw that this hallway was emptier than the others.
Then, I heard it. A voice, low and composed, spilling from a slightly open door. Nathaniel.
I froze, my instincts screaming at me to walk away, but something held me there. Maybe it was the fact that everything about Nathaniel Sinclair felt like a secret, a curtain of power drawn tightly shut. Maybe it was the chilling calm in his tone.
Or maybe it was the words themselves.
"Yes. The shipment is moving on schedule," he said smoothly. A pause. "No, not through the usual channels. Customs got too curious last time, so we’re handling it internally."
I felt my pulse spike. Shipment? Usual channels?
"Tell them I don’t want a repeat of Dubai," Nathaniel continued, still infuriatingly calm. "If we’re paying for discretion, I expect it to be upheld. My father doesn't take kindly to setbacks, and neither do I."
I swallowed hard, my fingers twitching at my sides.
Nathaniel sighed, as if he were speaking to a particularly slow-witted employee.
"The client has already transferred the first half. Once delivery is confirmed, the rest will be wired. And if there’s an issue—" A small pause, just enough silence to make my skin crawl. "Ensure there isn’t."
Silence. Then, softer now, more controlled. More deadly.
"If anything leaks, if anyone talks... we won’t need to discuss how to handle it. Just handle it."
I didn’t need to hear more. I knew exactly what this meant. Nathaniel wasn’t just involved in his family’s business.
He was particularly running it.
Before I could even process what I had just overheard, something shifted inside the room.
A figure unexpectedly moved in the doorway, cutting off my view of Nathaniel. Slow. Intentional.
Aiden.
He was standing still as stone and then, without a word, he stepped toward me in the hallway. He reached for the door and shut it behind him. The soft click of the latch sent a sharp jolt of panic through me.
Shit.
"Aiden, I—" I didn’t get another word out before he moved.
Too fast. A strong hand shot out, closing around my throat before I could react. The next second, my back slammed against the wall.