Under His Roof
1153 Words
ALISA'S POV
"We aren't going back to Mabel’s," Caden said. His voice was flat and final, the kind of tone that didn't invite any back-talk.
I watched through the window as Charles pulled the car away from the cemetery. My heart started to race. "What? Yes, we are. I need to change and... and breathe, Caden," I snapped, clutching my bag tightly against my chest.
"Arthur’s men know where you live, Alisa. Today proved that they can get to you whenever they want. You’re moving into the estate. Today."
"I didn't agree to this!" I shouted, turning in my seat to face him.
"You agreed to stay alive," he said. He didn't even bother to look at me. He was busy scrolling through his phone, acting like my entire life wasn't being uprooted. "Charles, take us home."
The drive was long and suffocatingly quiet. We eventually pulled up to a set of massive iron gates that looked like they belonged to a fortress. The driveway felt like it went on for miles, lined with perfectly cut trees and glowing lights that made the gravel sparkle. When the house finally came into view, I actually gasped. It wasn't just a house; it was a castle made of white stone and glass, glowing under the moon.
"What the f**k," I whispered under my breath.
"Language," Caden muttered. I caught a glimpse of that annoying, self-satisfied smirk returning to his face. He loved that I was impressed.
Charles opened the door, and Caden led me inside. The foyer was huge, with marble floors so shiny I could see my own worried reflection staring back at me. A massive staircase curved up toward the second floor like something out of a movie. It was beautiful, but it felt freezing. It felt like a museum where you weren't allowed to touch anything or even breathe too loudly.
"This is too much," I said, my voice echoing off the high ceilings.
"You’ll get used to it," Caden said, already walking toward the stairs. "Your room is on the second floor, three doors down from mine. You can start moving your things in tomorrow. Even if I'm not around, the staff will help you."
"I don't have 'things' that belong in a place like this, Caden. My stuff is simple."
He stopped on the stairs and looked down at me, his height making me feel even smaller. "Then buy new ones. I’ll give you the money," he said simply.
"I don't need your money," I muttered, looking away.
He kept staring at me, his eyes searching my face as if he were waiting for me to break and admit I wanted the luxury.
"Stop looking at me that way," I said, rolling my eyes.
"I'm going to give Charles a card for you, just in case you change your mind," he said, turning and continuing up the stairs.
I followed him, my heels clicking loudly on the marble. He led me down a long hallway to a set of massive double doors.
"This is your room," he said, pushing them open.
I stepped inside and froze. It was like stepping into a dream. I had never seen anything like it. If my guest room was this huge, I couldn't even imagine how big his master suite was. The decor was surprisingly girly—a perfect mix of soft pinks and warm beige. It was elegant, cozy, and honestly, it was perfect.
"Did you design this yourself?" I asked, my voice softening as I touched the velvet chair near the window.
"Of course not," he scoffed, leaning against the doorframe. He crossed his arms, the fabric of his shirt stretching over his chest in a way that was very attractive. I had to look away quickly before my brain started creating crazy fantasies. "I had someone do it."
"Do you like it?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he walked toward me.
I immediately stepped back, putting distance between us. "Unfortunately, no. I would rather live in my own apartment, sleep on my own lumpy couch, and watch my little garden. I don't want all of... this." I waved my hands in the air at the expensive curtains and the king-sized bed.
"I asked if you liked the room, Alisa, not what you would prefer," he said, his eyes narrowing.
"No. I don't, Caden," I lied, my face heating up.
"Alright then," he said, turning to walk out. "Just remember, my room is three doors away. It’s not a garden, it’s not a playhouse, and it’s certainly not a second bathroom. It’s my private space, and I’d like for that boundary to be set."
"I’ll ask for the same respect for my room," I snapped back.
"Of course," he said coldly. "The kitchen has everything you need. If it doesn't, just ask a maid to get it. And there’s a garden out back. Since you love to play with sand, you might fancy the place."
"Play with sand?" I asked, offended. "Is that how you see my job?"
"Forget it," he dismissed me.
"What about my friend Mabel?" I asked, my voice rising with worry. "They could go to her house. They could hurt her just to get to me."
"Mabel’s new house will be ready by next week."
My jaw dropped. "What? New? You got her a house?"
"Yes, I did. Isn't that what you were just suggesting?"
"Not... not really," I muttered, shocked that he had actually done something so huge and kind for her.
"I’ll have Charles take you both to see the place. I’ll have men protecting the building twenty-four-seven. It’s not far from the hospital." He stepped closer, his shadow falling over me. "I’ve played my part. Now it’s time for you to play yours."
"I said I would."
"Good. I’ll be traveling tonight. I won't be around for the next two days."
"Am I allowed to know where you’re going?" I asked, trying to sound like I didn't care.
"Texas," he said shortly. "Like I said, move your things in one at a time. I want you fully moved in before I get back. Don't try to be stubborn, Alisa. Just do what I say."
He looked directly into my eyes, his gaze intense and demanding.
"I'll do what I can," I said in a challenging tone, matching his stare.
"‘Doing what you can’ is exactly what led you to this house in the first place," he shot back. "You can leave now. Charles is waiting outside to take you back to pack a bag for tonight."
He turned on his heel and walked toward his own room.
"Well, have a nice day too!" I called out after him, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
The only response I got was the loud, echoing slam of his bedroom door. I knew the asshole did it on purpose. He wanted the last word.
- Writer
