Chapter Five - Looking Like Another Mistake
1419 Words
~Ariel’s POV~
“Are you deaf? Or do you need me to repeat myself?”
I stopped walking the moment I heard a tiny voice behind me. For a second, I honestly thought I’d imagined it, it sounded so small yet so sharp, like a mosquito that learned how to talk. But when I turned around, there she was.
A girl who looked like she had no business being anywhere beyond a middle school playground.
“Excuse me?” I asked, clutching my phone and my tangled earpiece together in one hand. I was confused, tired, already irritated, and this wasn’t even a voice I recognized.
“You are excused,” she replied.
The way she said it… the tone alone almost made me slap her out of reflex. She crossed her arms, chin tilted up like she was the one paying taxes on this entire mansion.
“I’m Princess,” she continued, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Who are you? And how did you get in here? Do they let any gold-digging charity into the house now?”
For a moment, my brain simply shut down. Not because of the insult, no. I’ve heard worse — but because she was genuinely serious. She meant every word coming out of her mouth.
I blinked slowly, breathed in through my nose, and forced my voice to stay even.
“I would’ve replied politely,” I said, “but after witnessing your rudeness… go ask your father.”
I turned to walk away. My hands were shaking a little, but I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing it.
Then I felt it. A sharp, painful yank.
The brat pulled my hair so hard my neck snapped back, and I stumbled, almost falling flat on my back.
Oh, hell no.
I turned on instinct and slapped her across the face. The sound echoed through the open hall, sharp, ringing, perfect. She gasped, hand flying to her cheek, her eyes going wide with disbelief before she lunged at me.
We tumbled into a messy, chaotic scuffle, her nails in my arms, my hand grabbing her wrist, her foot trying to stomp mine, me pushing her back,and honestly, if she thought she could win, she had severely underestimated everything about me.
But before I could win properly, a voice thundered through the hallway.
“Princess!”
We both froze.
Mr. Kael stood at the top of the stairs, jaw clenched, his gaze sharp enough to cut steel. Behind him, Quinn hurried forward and practically flew to my side.
“Ariel, baby, are you alright?” she asked, placing both hands on my arms, checking me for scratches. “Oh sweetheart, I’m sure you girls will get along. This is nothing serious.”
Nothing serious? The little gremlin had tried to snatch my scalp off.
Princess rushed to her father and instantly transformed from feral raccoon to innocent angel.
“Daddy,” she sniffed, “she hit me. I didn’t even do anything!”
I almost laughed. The performance was Oscar-worthy, honestly.
But Mr. Kael didn’t say a word. Not to her, not to me, not to Quinn. His eyes were cold, yes, a stark contrast to one of comfort, but he just sighed and dismissed Princess with a single gesture. “Go to your room.”
He turned and walked away immediately, not even saying anything about what she did. Not like I was expecting an apology or something but . . .
Quinn gave me a small, tight smile, her hands rubbing my arms. “Go to your room, okay? You’ve had enough for today.”
Fine. Happy to.
–––––––
Later that evening, they called me for dinner. I wasn’t hungry, but ignoring the invitation would stir up unnecessary drama, so I went.
Passing by the kitchen, I overheard two chefs whispering.
“Do we need the shrimps?”
“Of course. It’s also part of the delicacy.”
“But the girl . . . ”
“Just . . . Keep the shrimps far from Princess. Since she’s allergic.”
My eyes narrowed.
Interesting.
I stepped into the dining room and took my seat. The room felt stiff, formal, like everyone wanted to be polite but also wanted to suffocate each other with napkins.
Dinner started calm enough. I ate quietly, minding my business, trying not to look anyone in the eye.
Then Quinn suggested I try the chicken wings.
Princess lifted her head immediately. “I want it too.”
Quinn hesitated, then passed the tray to her. Princess scooped everything onto her plate, piling it up like she was starving, then looked at me with faux innocence.
“Oh… you wanted some too?” she asked, fluttering her lashes.
Quinn ignored it with a forced laugh and said, “Ariel, have some eggs instead. They’re richer.”
“Fine.”
Then the salad tray came around.
Princess took it.
Quinn smiled at her like she was some kind of fragile angel who needed emotional cushioning.
Then the pasta.
Princess “accidentally” emptied most of it onto her plate.
Each time Quinn tried to soften the moment, Princess made sure I knew she was doing it deliberately.
My irritation simmered, slowly, deeply, quietly.
Until the shrimps. The cursed shrimps.
I reached for the tray, acting like I just wanted to move it aside —
And “accidentally” tipped it over, right onto Princess’s plate.
The shrimps slid, beautifully, gloriously, across her food and onto the tablecloth.
Princess shot to her feet instantly. “You did that on purpose! I’m allergic! Are you crazy?!”
I blinked innocently. “How would I know? I barely live here.”
She turned to her father, expecting him to roar like a dragon but Mr. Kael didn’t say a single word.
Not one.
Princess looked like she had been betrayed, shocked and humiliated all at once.
She stormed out of the room, tears in her eyes, and slammed the door behind her.
Quinn sighed deeply, rubbing her temple. Kael just continued eating like the shrimps had nothing to do with him or world peace.
Inside me?
Satisfaction bloomed like a warm, wicked flower.
–––––––
That night, sleep didn’t come easily. When it finally did, it came too easily and dragged me into memories I never asked for.
Kaiden.
His hands on my hips, guiding me, owning every movement. His mouth at my throat, warm and dizzying. The way he pressed me down by holding my lower back. The way he whispered against my skin — that rough, low, dangerous tone that made my breath crumble.
His fingers traced the inside of my thigh, his mouth on me, the way he’d lifted my leg over his shoulder and—
I woke up with a gasp, sitting upright.
My chest was rising and falling too fast. My skin was warm. My pulse was loud.
And between my thighs…
God.
I dragged my hand over my face, mortified.
Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? Why couldn’t my mind leave that night alone? Was it the thrill? The danger? The loss of control? The way he’d touched me like he already knew my body?
My room was stuffy, smelled like both heat and s*x. I needed air. Or water.
Or a therapist.
I slipped out of bed and padded downstairs, hoping the kitchen had cold water or milk — anything to shock my brain back to sleep.
When I reached the hallway, I froze. I could hear movement nearby.
Slow, heavy. Deliberate.
My heart skipped. I grabbed the closest object — a tall, decorative vase — and held it like a bat.
Great. I was going to die armed with overpriced ceramic.
I tiptoed toward the kitchen doorway and peeked in, slowly, cautiously.
Nothing.
The lights were low, the counters were empty. Everything was quiet and normal. I exhaled shakily and lowered the vase, ready to place it back.
Then I saw it. A silhouette.
Broad shoulders. Straight posture. A tall frame that filled the corner in front of me. I gasped and stumbled back, dropping the vase — it clattered loudly on the floor.
My eyes shot upward and landed on his abs first, then his chest—solid muscle, defined form, unmistakable strength.
Then up his throat, jaw, mouth.
And finally, his eyes.
It was Kaiden.
Standing there like the beginning of another mistake I might make twice.
- Writer
