Chapter 4
1096 Words
~AMIRA~
‘My pool.’
The words hit me harder than the cold water. He didn't say ‘the pool.’ He said ‘My pool.’ My stomach dropped so fast I felt dizzy.
This wasn't a security guard. This wasn't a gardener.
This was him.
This was the "ruthless tycoon" Audrey had talked about. The billionaire who supposedly never came here. The man who wasn't supposed to be within a hundred miles of this estate.
Zane.
I stared up at him, treading water, trying to keep my head above the surface while my brain scrambled for an excuse. But what excuse could I give? ‘Hi, I am your daughter’s party friend and I am squatting in your mansion?’
"I asked you a question," he said. His voice didn't rise. It didn't have to. It was deep, calm, and terrifyingly authoritative. It was the kind of voice that made you want to apologize before you even knew what you did wrong.
"I... I am a friend of Audrey’s," I managed to choke out. My voice sounded small, pathetic against the hum of the pool filters.
His eyes narrowed. Those green eyes were intense. They looked like moss under ice. "Audrey is in Paris."
He knew. Of course he knew. He probably tracked her credit cards.
"She... she told me I could stay here," I said, trying to inject a little bit of backbone into my voice. I wasn't a criminal. Well, technically I was trespassing, but I had permission. Sort of. "She gave me the code."
He didn't blink. He just stared down at me, looking bored. "Did she now?"
He took a step closer to the edge. The toes of his expensive black boots were an inch from the water.
"Get out," he said.
Two words. A command. Not a request.
I hesitated. I looked down at the water distorting my body. I was wearing a neon orange bikini that was basically three triangles and a piece of string. It was cute for a private swim. It was not cute meeting a friend's terrifying father for the first time.
"I... can you turn around?" I asked.
His eyebrows shot up. "Turn around?"
"I am not... I am not decent," I stammered. "My towel is over there."
I pointed to the lounge chair where he had dropped my white towel. It felt like it was a mile away.
A corner of his mouth ticked up. It wasn't a smile. It was a smirk. A dark, arrogant smirk that made my skin prickle.
"You are trespassing on my property, using my water, and living in my house," he said, His voice getting deeper.. "You don't get to make demands. Get. Out."
He crossed his arms over his chest. The muscles in his forearms shifted under the ink. He wasn't going to turn around. He was going to watch.
Anger flared up in my chest, hot and sudden. It burned through the fear. Who did he think he was? Okay, yeah, he was the owner. But he didn't have to be a creep about it.
"Fine," I snapped.
I swam to the ladder. My heart was beating against my ribs, but I refused to cower. If he wanted a show, fine. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me shake.
I grabbed the metal rails and pulled myself up.
Water streamed off my skin. I climbed out, stepping onto the hot concrete. I stood up straight, pulling my shoulders back, lifting my chin. I channeled every ounce of "model attitude" I had practiced in the mirror.
‘Look at me. I don't care.’ But I did care. I felt exposed. I felt naked.
Zane didn't move. He stood there, six-foot-two of pure intimidation, and his eyes raked over me.
He didn't look at my face. He looked at my legs. My thighs. The curve of my hips. The neon orange strings tied at my waist. He looked at my stomach, my chest, my neck.
It wasn't a polite look. It was a consumption.
I felt heat rush to my cheeks. I felt a weird, heavy pull low in my belly that I definitely shouldn't be feeling right now. He was scary, yes. But God, he was hot. Up close, the age difference was obvious…he had silver threaded through the hair at his temples, and lines around his eyes….but it worked for him. He looked experienced. Powerful.
His gaze finally snapped back to my eyes. The air between us felt stuffy, like it was charged with electricity.
"Audrey has terrible taste in friends," he muttered. "But she has excellent taste in swimwear."
My jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
He stepped forward. I instinctively stepped back, but my heel hit the edge of the pool. I had nowhere to go. He stopped inches from me. He smelled like smoke and expensive leather. He was so big he blocked out the sun completely.
"Cover up," he ordered, his voice rougher now. "Meet me in the study in ten minutes. If you’re not there, I am calling the police."
He turned on his heel and walked away, heading toward the glass doors.
"Wait,” I called out.
He stopped, glancing over his shoulder.
"I didn't steal anything," I said, my voice shaking again. "I just... I had nowhere else to go."
He looked at me for a long second. His expression didn't soften, but his eyes remained on my wet hair.
"Ten minutes," he repeated. "Don't make me come find you. You won't like it if I have to chase you." He walked inside and slid the door shut.
I stood there on the terrace, dripping wet, shivering in the summer heat. My knees finally gave out, and I sank down onto the lounge chair, grabbing my towel and wrapping it tight around me like a shield.
He was going to call the police. I was going to jail.
I looked at the glass doors. I could run. I could grab my suitcase and run into the woods. But where would I go? I had no money. No phone battery. No car.
I was trapped.
I looked at the heavy wooden door he had disappeared through.
‘Don't make me come find you.’
The way he said it... it sounded like a threat. But it also sounded like a promise. I swallowed hard. I had to face him. I had to beg him to let me stay, or at least let me go without calling the cops.
I stood up, my legs trembling.
I had ten minutes to save my life.
- Writer
