CHAPTER 3
1211 Words
The black car glided through the slick streets of Manhattan while Cassandra sat stiffly in the back seat beside Dominic, the heavy silence between them as impenetrable as the tinted windows. She could feel his presence, magnetic yet suffocating, his focus seemingly pinned to the glowing screen of his phone.
Her mind replayed the stranger’s words on a loop. The Blackwoods are cursed. And then, the unnerving way he’d vanished into the crowd like smoke dissipating into the air. A chill prickled her skin, despite the car’s warm interior.
She cleared her throat, her voice hesitant as she broke the silence. “Dominic, who was that man?”
His fingers paused mid-gesture on his phone, flickering his jaw. He didn’t look up. “Forget him.”
“That’s not an answer,” she pressed, her frustration bubbling underneath her polished demeanor. “He mentioned your family. And this—curse.”
Dominic finally met her gaze, his steel-gray eyes hard and unyielding. “I said, drop it.”
Cassandra’s lips thinned as she crossed her arms. The evening had been a whirlwind of cryptic warnings and emotional backlash, and she was tired of being left in the dark. How could he drag her into world and tell her it's none of her business? She turned to face him fully, her chin lifted in defiance. “You brought me into this world, Dominic. If there’s danger, I have a right to know.”
His sharp laugh was humorless. “Danger? This isn’t one of your courtroom dramas, Cassandra. You’re not some heroine uncovering a grand conspiracy. You’re my attorney, and your job is to shield me, not to dig up skeletons.”
“Are there skeletons to dig up?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly.
Dominic’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, she thought he might lash out. But instead, he leaned back against the leather seat, exhaling slowly, his expression unreadable. “You have no idea what you’re stepping into,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
Before Cassandra could respond, the car slowed to a stop outside his opulent townhouse. The driver stepped out to open the door, but Dominic was already moving, his long strides carrying him toward the front steps without so much as a glance back.
Cassandra hesitated, torn between following him and retreating to the safety of her own home. But the memory of the stranger’s warning weighed heavily on her. Composing herself, she slipped out of the car and hurried after Dominic, her heels clicking against the damp pavement.
Inside, the mansion was as intimidating as its owner, grand and imposing, with dark wood paneling, crystal chandeliers, and large rooms. Dominic shrugged off his coat and disappeared into a side room, leaving her standing awkwardly in the hallway.
She wandered cautiously, her curiosity getting the better of her. The walls were lined with old family portraits, their subjects gazing down at her with expressions that ranged from stern to sorrowful. One painting in particular caught her eye—a young woman with hauntingly familiar features. Her dark eyes seemed to follow Cassandra as she moved closer, her delicate mouth curved in a faint, enigmatic smile.
“That’s Victoria Blackwood,” Dominic’s voice came from behind her, startling her. She turned to find him leaning casually against the doorframe, his tie loosened and his expression unreadable. “My great-aunt. She died young.”
“What happened to her?” Cassandra asked, unable to tear her eyes away from the painting.
He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to the portrait before returning to her. “They say she fell in love with the wrong man. It didn’t end well.”
The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Cassandra felt a shiver run down her spine. “And the curse?” she ventured cautiously.
Dominic’s lips curved into a bitter smile. “It’s just a story. A convenient excuse for a family prone to tragedy.”
“Is that what you believe?” she asked, searching his face for any c***k in his armor.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed off the doorframe and gestured for her to follow. “You’ll be staying here tonight.”
Cassandra blinked. “What? No, I—”
“It’s not up for discussion,” Dominic interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “If someone’s been watching you, it’s not safe for you to be alone.”
She bristled at his high-handedness but couldn’t deny the uneasy feeling that had settled over her since the encounter at the gala. Reluctantly, she followed him upstairs to a guest room, its lavish furnishings and soft lighting doing little to ease her nerves.
“Lock the door,” Dominic instructed, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turned to leave.
“Dominic,” she called after him, her voice softer now. He paused, his hand on the doorknob. “If there’s something you’re not telling me… I need to know.”
His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “Get some rest, Cassandra. You’ll need it.”
And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
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The house was quiet, the kind of silence that amplifies every creak and whisper of the wind. Cassandra lay in the massive four-poster bed, staring up at the ornate ceiling as her thoughts raced. Sleep felt like an impossible luxury, her mind too tangled with questions and the lingering sense of unease.
A faint noise drew her attention—a soft thud, like something heavy being set down. She sat up, her heart pounding as she strained to listen. The sound came again, this time accompanied by the faintest murmur of voices.
Sliding out of bed, Cassandra padded to the door and cracked it open. The hallway was dimly lit, the shadows stretching long and ominous. She hesitated for a moment before stepping out, the thick carpet muffling her footsteps as she moved toward the source of the noise.
It led her to a study at the end of the hall. The door was ajar, and through the gap, she could see Dominic standing by a large desk, his back to her. He wasn’t alone. The stranger from the gala stood opposite him, his posture relaxed but his presence no less menacing.
Cassandra’s breath caught. She pressed herself against the wall, peering through the sliver of space.
“… warned her,” the stranger was saying, his voice low but clear. “You should’ve done the same.”
Dominic’s reply was too quiet for her to make out, but his tone was sharp, defensive.
The stranger laughed, the sound dark and unsettling. “You can’t protect her, Blackwood. The curse will claim her, just like it claims everyone close to you.”
Cassandra’s stomach twisted. The floorboards beneath her creaked, and both men’s heads snapped toward the door.
“Cassandra,” Dominic’s voice was a dangerous growl. “What are you doing?”
She froze, caught in the act. The stranger’s dark eyes met hers, and his lips curved into that same cold smile.
“I told you,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving hers. “You should be careful, Miss Moore.”
- Writer
