Chapter 9: Don’t pretend your not afraid
979 Words
Ellie had been avoiding him.
It wasn’t subtle.
She left trays outside doors, took longer walks through the estate’s garden path, and let Beatrice deliver messages that didn’t require her presence. She didn’t eat in the dining room anymore. She waited until the house was quiet, then slipped in and out of the kitchen like a ghost.
She was pretending nothing had changed.
But everything had.
She had seen him—really seen him. The man who hadn’t flinched when he pressed another man against the wall by his throat, eyes ice-cold, voice quiet enough to make your blood run cold.
He hadn’t raised his voice.
He hadn’t needed to.
And that was what terrified her most.
Still, she told herself it didn’t matter. He hadn’t touched her. Hadn’t threatened her. She was here by choice… wasn’t she?
But the moment Beatrice stepped into her room with a tight expression and quiet words, Ellie felt it—the shift.
“He wants to see you,” Beatrice said softly. “Now.”
Ellie didn’t ask who he was. She already knew.
Her pulse kicked into her throat. “In the study?”
Beatrice nodded once.
⸻
The walk there felt longer than usual.
She smoothed her blouse twice. Her fingers were cold. Her stomach flipped as she reached the door and saw the warm glow of firelight inside.
She knocked once, and his voice—calm, deep—cut through the wood. “Come in.”
Ellie opened the door.
Salvador was standing by the fireplace. No jacket, sleeves rolled up, collar slightly undone. A crystal glass of amber liquid rested in his hand. He looked both completely relaxed and vaguely lethal.
She took a cautious step in.
“You wanted to see me?”
He didn’t look at her. “Close the door.”
The softness in his tone made the words even more unsettling.
She obeyed, swallowing hard as the click echoed in the quiet room.
Salvador turned to face her, finally. His expression unreadable. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
She crossed her arms. “I’ve been busy.”
“Busy dodging me, yes.”
Her jaw tightened. “I didn’t realize casual conversation was part of my job description.”
He gave a slow smile—one without warmth. “Careful, Ellie.”
“You called me here to scold me?”
“I called you here because you’re lying.”
She blinked.
“You saw something the other night,” he said. “Something you weren’t supposed to.”
She looked away. “I wasn’t spying on you. I didn’t mean to see anything.”
“But you did.” His voice was so calm it chilled her. “And now, you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared of you,” she lied.
He raised a brow. “Then why can’t you look me in the eye?”
She met his gaze in defiance. “I am looking at you.”
“Now,” he said. “Barely.”
Ellie stepped back instinctively as he approached—each step deliberate, not rushed, but heavy with tension.
Her back hit the door.
He didn’t touch her. Just stood close enough for her to feel the heat of his body, smell the faint spice of his cologne, hear every breath he took.
“Fear is smart,” he murmured. “It keeps you alive.”
“Is that what you think? That I should be scared just because you got violent with someone?”
“No,” he said, tone low. “I think you should be scared because you don’t understand how this world works. Or me.”
She lifted her chin. “Maybe I don’t want to.”
“Then you shouldn’t have followed me.”
Her breath caught. “I didn’t follow you.”
“But you watched.”
He leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear. “You like watching, don’t you?”
The air between them pulsed.
Ellie’s skin prickled. Her breath came fast. Her brain screamed move, but her body didn’t listen.
“I told you I wouldn’t touch you without permission,” he said.
“You don’t have it.”
A slow smirk curved his lips. “Not yet.”
He reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers barely grazing her skin. The touch was featherlight, but it lit a fire low in her stomach.
Then, just as quickly, he stepped back.
“You can go.”
Ellie stared at him.
That was it?
Just like that?
She turned, opened the door, and stepped into the hall—then paused.
His voice came again, quieter this time.
“Ellie.”
She glanced back.
“You think I scare you now?” he said. “Just wait until you lie to me again.”
⸻
She didn’t sleep that night.
Not because she feared what he might do.
But because she couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been.
How her body betrayed her. How she didn’t want his hands on her—but some twisted part of her did. It didn’t make sense. He was cold, arrogant, emotionally unavailable—and worst of all, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
She tossed the pillow aside, got up, and paced.
This had to stop.
She needed to escape—not just the house, but him. The longer she stayed, the more she felt herself unraveling. The Ellie that walked into this mansion was slipping further away, and in her place stood someone who didn’t know what she wanted anymore.
Freedom. Revenge. Or a second brush with the devil’s fingertips.
She stopped by the window.
The night stretched out in velvet darkness.
A storm was coming.
She could feel it.
And somehow, she knew—Salvador Sinclair was the eye of it.
- Writer
