THE BILLIONAIRES EROTIC ENCOUNTER

Chapter three

Kelly’s POV

The cold night…

The room was bathed in a soft, warm light as the afternoon sun streamed through the curtains. Despite the picturesque view, I couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort that had settled over me since I arrived. Everything in this house—the polished floors, the gleaming chandeliers, the opulent furniture—reminded me of a life that had never belonged to me. It wasn’t the kind of life I had chosen for myself, but it had always been the one I had been thrust into by mere proximity.

I stood at the window, looking out at the perfectly manicured lawn, the sprawling grounds stretching beyond the house’s boundaries. The estate was massive, towering like a palace that had never needed to be questioned, and yet every corner of it was filled with the faintest whispers of my childhood—whispers I was struggling to push away.

I took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to calm the thoughts that kept swirling in my mind. The anxiety about seeing my mother again, the pressure of being here, the fact that I was standing in the place where I had spent so many years as a child—all of it felt overwhelming.

Shaking my head, I turned away from the window, moving toward the small dresser against the far wall. I had unpacked only the essentials: a few pairs of clothes, toiletries, a few keepsakes I couldn’t leave behind. The room felt too quiet, the silence so heavy that it pressed in on me from all sides.

My mother had been ill for some time, but it was different now. The last time I saw her, she had been strong, resilient, as she always was. But today… today there had been a frailty in her I hadn’t seen before. It had shaken me more than I wanted to admit, especially since I had pushed so much of my life away from this world. It wasn’t easy to return to a place that felt like a reminder of everything I had left behind, but I had no choice.

She needed me.

I needed to be here for her, even if it meant reliving the things I had spent so long running from.

As I rummaged through the drawer, pulling out a fresh set of clothes, I allowed myself a moment to breathe. I glanced at the clock and realized it was getting late. The house was still as quiet as ever, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound breaking the stillness.

I could hear faint noises down the hallway, the shuffle of footsteps from the staff, the occasional murmur of voices from the kitchen, but no one seemed to pay me any attention. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional or if it was just how things worked here, but the longer I stayed, the more I felt like an outsider.

I had never been close to the Sinclairs. I had spent the majority of my life as an invisible fixture in their world. My mother had always been the one to serve them, while I quietly stayed in the background, trying not to draw attention to myself. The estate was so large that it was easy to get lost in its labyrinthine hallways and vast rooms. But no matter how much space I had to myself, I could never escape the feeling of being other, never quite fitting in.

I slipped into the pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, opting for comfort over anything else. The clothes felt like a small, comforting rebellion against the formal, rigid world I had once been expected to live in. As I moved to the bathroom to brush my hair, I caught my reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at me was not the same one who had left this house years ago.

I had grown, changed in ways I hadn’t expected. My face, once youthful and naive, now held a quiet strength. There were lines on my forehead from frowning too much, a smudge of worry under my eyes from the sleepless nights I had spent taking care of my mother. But there was also something new—something I hadn’t noticed before.

A resilience, maybe.

I sighed, setting down the hairbrush. There was no use thinking too much about that.

Tonight, I would do what I came here for: take care of my mother.

As I sat back down on the edge of the bed, I caught myself staring at the door. It was funny how much had changed since I last stood in this house, but one thing remained the same. I was still drawn to the unknown—still hesitant to fully embrace what I had left behind. I knew I couldn’t stay in this house forever. I couldn’t return to this life, not with all the things I had worked so hard to escape. But for tonight, I had no choice.

Just as I was about to pull myself back from the deep thoughts, I heard the sound of footsteps outside the door.

It was soft, deliberate, and they stopped just on the other side of my door.

My heart beat faster, and a strange sense of anticipation flooded me. Was it my mother? No. She wouldn’t be up and about this late. Was it someone else, one of the staff members? Or perhaps someone from the Sinclair family?

I stood up, silently walking toward the door. My hand hovered above the handle, but I didn’t turn it just yet.

And then the footsteps faded, and there was only silence again.

I let out a breath, my hand falling away from the door. It must have been a servant, or perhaps one of the others staying in the estate. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, of feeling strangely out of place.

Turning away from the door, I moved back to the window, trying to regain my focus. The faint city lights glittered in the distance, their glow soft and welcoming. For a brief moment, I felt a connection to the outside world, to everything beyond these walls. There were things beyond this house, beyond the memories that tried to suffocate me.

But then, just as quickly, the moment passed, and I was once again back inside my own mind.

As the night wore on, I found myself sinking deeper into my thoughts, losing track of time. The silence of the house felt both comforting and oppressive, a reminder that I wasn’t where I belonged. But I wasn’t sure where I did belong anymore.

My mind wandered to the past, to the time when I was just a girl with dreams bigger than my small, quiet life. There were moments when I thought I could have had it all more than just a life of servitude, more than just existing. But those moments were long gone.

The past was just that.

A knock at the door startled me, and I jumped back from the window, heart racing. I wasn’t expecting anyone. It was late, and I had no reason to be disturbed.

Taking a deep breath, I moved to the door again, this time less hesitant. When I opened it, there was no one there. The hallway was dark, empty, the only sign of life being the soft glow of a distant light.

I frowned, standing in the doorway, scanning the empty space. The silence felt even more oppressive now.

I closed the door and locked it behind me, leaning against it for a moment. I hadn’t imagined the footsteps, had I?

No.

I quickly dismissed the thought, refusing to let myself get caught up in the lingering unease.

Tonight wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about my own doubts or insecurities. It was about my mother.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I moved toward the bed, sinking into its softness. I reached for my phone and texted my mother’s doctor one last time, double-checking everything for tomorrow’s visit.

I had to stay focused. I couldn’t let myself drift back into the past or entertain thoughts of the future. For now, all that mattered was being here for my mother.

The rest of it could wait.