Chapter Two
1007 Words
After hours of winding back roads, Sebastian finally found it. The manor rose before him like a ghost from his past—ivy strangling the stone walls, windows clouded with dust, the roofline sagging under years of neglect.
And yet, seeing it again hit him harder than he’d expected. Andrew’s laughter echoed in his memory, his sister’s footsteps chasing after them, his mother’s voice carrying across the fields. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white. For a moment, he let himself feel it.
Then the sound of heels on gravel snapped him out of it.
“Mr. Rask?!”
A woman in a black pencil skirt and red stilettos hurried toward him, plastering on a bright smile.
“Oh, thank God, you made it. I was starting to think you’d changed your mind.”
“GPS gave me trouble,” Sebastian said smoothly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “This place isn’t exactly where I remember it.”
“They’ve built so much around here—new roads, a whole plaza, even—”
“Is everything ready?” His tone was sharp, cutting her chatter short.
She adjusted her glasses. “Yes, just as your assistant arranged. If you’ll follow me—”
“I’ll take the keys.”
Hesitating, she handed them over. “Are you certain you want to stay here? The nearest hotel is only fifteen minutes—”
“I said no.” He walked past her without looking back.
“Emmy! Wait up!”
Emma tugged her headphones down, spotting Samantha jogging toward her.
“God, you walk like you’re training for a marathon. I’ve been chasing you forever,” Samantha panted.
Emma offered a guilty smile.
“Lunch?” Sam asked hopefully.
Emma knew that hopeful gleam. It wasn’t about food. It was about Connor. Always Connor.
“Sorry, I’ve got work. Off-campus.”
Sam’s face fell, and Emma relented a little. “He’s at our usual spot, though. I’ll be sketching at the old orchard manor.”
Sam wrinkled her nose. “That creepy place again? Why?”
Emma’s lips curved. “Because it’s quiet. And beautiful.”
Sam fussed with her short blonde hair. “Do I look okay?”
“You look the same,” Emma teased.
Sam groaned, and Emma laughed, pulling her into a hug. “Relax. You look beautiful.”
Later that evening, Sebastian stepped out of the shower, hair damp, shirt half-buttoned. He poured himself a drink, pocketed the keys, and wandered the halls with whiskey in hand. The manor was exactly as they’d left it—dust, sheets, silence.
The main hall creaked beneath his steps. He could almost hear the patter of his childhood self racing down the stairs. His throat tightened as he moved to the great window overlooking the fields.
Then he froze.
Beneath the old willow tree sat a figure. Auburn hair piled in a messy bun, headphones on, pencil moving furiously across a sketchbook.
Her.
The girl from earlier.
Sebastian’s frown deepened. Of all the people to find here, why her?
He strode across the yard. “Hey.”
No response.
“Hey!”
Still nothing. Irritation flared, though something else—something sharper, more curious—slid beneath it. He reached down and plucked the notebook from her hands.
Emma gasped, jerking her head up. Recognition flashed in her wide hazel eyes, followed quickly by indignation. She pulled her headphones down.
“What the hell?”
“What are you doing on my property?” His voice was low, dangerous.
Her brows shot up. “Your property? Sorry—I didn’t know anyone even lived here. I come to sketch. That’s all.”
When his scowl didn’t soften, she added, “Relax. I wasn’t planning on redecorating the place. Could I have my sketchbook back now?”
Instead of handing it over, Sebastian flipped it open. His jaw clenched when he saw the manor sketched in detail—arches, staircases, rooms. Too precise.
“What the hell is this?”
Emma’s lips parted. “Designs. For class.”
He didn’t buy it. He grabbed her bag, upending it onto the grass.
“Hey!” She shoved his shoulder, surprisingly firm for her size. “What is wrong with you?”
He ignored her until he found nothing incriminating. Finally, his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her still.
“Who sent you? How much are they paying you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Her eyes blazed as she tried to yank free. “These are mine. Let me go.”
For a moment, his grip lingered. Her skin was warm beneath his palm, her pulse fluttering against his fingers. He realized it at the same time she did, and that only made his scowl deepen. He dropped her wrist abruptly, almost annoyed at himself.
“Start walking.”
Emma crouched to scoop her things back into her bag, chin high with defiance. “Give me my notebook, and I’ll go.”
He stepped closer, towering over her. His voice dropped, rough and unyielding. “No. You don’t leave until I get answers.”
Her hazel eyes locked onto his, unflinching. She should have looked afraid. Instead, there was fire there.
Something twisted in his chest—an unwelcome pull.
“Fine,” she said sweetly, straightening. “Carry me then.”
The challenge in her tone snapped the last of his restraint. In one swift motion, he hooked an arm behind her knees and hefted her over his shoulder. Emma let out a startled yelp, fists thumping against his back.
“Put me down, you arrogant—”
“Careful,” he drawled, carrying her toward the manor. “You might convince me to keep you longer.”
Her breath caught at the heat in his words, though she quickly masked it with another furious shove. Sebastian smirked grimly to himself, ignoring the pounding of her fists.
One thing was certain. This girl was trouble.
- Writer
