Desired By Deception

Chapter 2

The heavy gates of the Belgravia estate closed behind the Mercedes with a final, resounding click that echoed in my bones. I stepped out of the car into the cool evening air, my small suitcase clutched tightly in one hand. The mansion loomed before me like a beautiful prison. It was sprawling, elegant, and utterly overwhelming.

Marble columns gleamed under soft exterior lights, and perfectly manicured gardens stretched out on either side, hidden from the outside world by high walls and security cameras.

Lorenzo didn’t wait for me. He strode ahead toward the grand entrance without a backward glance, as if I were already part of the furniture. I followed, my shoe clicking against the stone path, my heart still racing from everything that had happened in the last few hours.

A uniformed maid appeared at the door, she was young and neatly dressed in a crisp black-and-white uniform. She offered a polite but distant smile.

“Mr. Rossi,” she said with a small bow. “Everything is prepared as you requested.”

Lorenzo nodded curtly. “Show Miss Thorne to her room. She has ten minutes to settle, then bring her to my study.” He finally turned to me, his cold eyes pinning me in place. “Do not keep me waiting, Miss Thorne. My time is very valuable.”

I wanted to snap back that my time was valuable too, but I bit my tongue. Arguing withhim right now would only make things worse. “I understand,” I replied instead, keeping my voice even.

The maid gestured for me to follow her inside. As we walked through the opulent foyer. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, marble floors so polished I could see my reflection. The reality of my situation crashed down on me. This wasn’t a temporary visit. This was my life for the next six months. No more quiet afternoons in my shop. No more peaceful evenings restoring old documents on my own terms. Just this… this suffocating luxury.

We climbed a sweeping staircase and walked down a long hallway lined with expensive artwork. The maid stopped in front of a heavy wooden door and opened it.

“This will be your room, Miss Thorne,” she said softly. “Mr. Rossi had it prepared for you.”

I stepped inside and froze. The room was larger than my entire apartment above the shop. A king-sized bed dominated one side, Huge windows overlooked the private gardens. There was a sitting area with plush sofas, a massive wardrobe, and an attached bathroom that looked like it belonged in a five-star hotel. My small suitcase looked pathetic sitting on the thick carpet.

“It’s… beautiful,” I murmured, though the words felt hollow. Beautiful, yes. But it wasn’t home.

The maid nodded. “I’ll return in ten minutes to escort you to Mr. Rossi’s study. If you need anything like towels, toiletries, or refreshments, just use the intercom by the bed and someone will assist you.”

She left, closing the door quietly behind her. I sank onto the edge of the bed, my hands trembling as I finally let the weight of the day settle over me. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I blinked them away fiercely. I couldn’t cry. Not here. Not when Lorenzo might see any sign of weakness as an opening.

Six months, I reminded myself. I just had to survive six months. Restore whatever he wanted, keep my shop safe, and then go back to my real life. But the mention of Uncle Arthur’s notebooks kept echoing in my mind. Why did Lorenzo have them? What connection did my uncle really have to the Rossi empire?

Exactly ten minutes later, a soft knock sounded. The maid had returned.

“Mr. Rossi is waiting,” she said simply.

I followed her through the maze of hallways, my nerves unsettling with every step. We stopped before a set of double doors. The maid knocked once, then opened them.

Lorenzo’s study was exactly what I expected. Dark wood paneling, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes, and a massive desk that made him look even more like a king on his throne. He sat behind it, reviewing some papers.

“Sit,” he ordered without looking up.

I lowered myself into the chair opposite him, my back straight and hands folded in my lap. He finally pushed a stack of old records toward me. A yellowed pages, some with faded ink, others water-damaged.

“Start with these,” he said. “They relate to the early days of Rossi Shipping. Restore them carefully. I expect progress reports every few days. When you’ve proven yourself with these, I’ll give you access to Arthur Thorne’s personal notebooks.”

My pulse jumped at my uncle’s name again. “Why do you have my uncle’s things?” I asked, unable to hold back completely.

Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed slightly. “All in good time, Miss Thorne. Focus on your work. That is what you are here for.”

I gathered the files carefully. As I stood to leave, anger simmered beneath my skin. He was dangling my uncle like bait, knowing I couldn’t resist.

I stepped out of the study, my mind spinning with questions and frustration. My thoughts were so loud that I didn’t see the person coming the other way until it was too late.

I collided hard into a solid chest. The files flew from my hands, papers scattering across the polished floor.

“Oh no!” I gasped, bending down instinctively to gather them.

Strong hands moved faster than mine. The man caught most of the files before they could scatter too far, his movements efficient. I looked up slowly, my breath catching.

It was him.

Julian Vance.

He was even more striking up close than in the tabloids. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and dark eyes that seemed to see straight through me. His hair was perfectly styled, and he carried the kind of quiet confidence that came with knowing the world bent to his will. The bachelor billionaire heir. The man destined to inherit everything Lorenzo had built.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. My heart stuttered. He was devastatingly handsome in real life. Dangerously so.

Julian cleared his throat, the sound pulling me back to reality. Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized I had been staring.

He held the gathered files out to me without a word. His fingers brushed mine as I took them back, sending an unwelcome spark up my arm. He smelled like sandalwood and something darker, more expensive.

“Thank you,” I managed, my voice quieter than I intended.

Julian didn’t reply. He simply gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable, almost cold. Then he stepped around me and continued down the hallway, barely acknowledging my existence.

I stood there, clutching the files to my chest, watching his retreating back. That was rude. Extremely rude. He had just helped me, yet he couldn’t even manage a single word? Typical entitled billionaire behavior.

But even as irritation flared, I couldn’t ignore the way my skin still tingled where we had touched. Or the way his intense gaze had made something deep inside me flutter.

I shook my head sharply. No. I was not here for distractions. Especially not distractions wearing expensive suits.

Adjusting the files in my arms, I headed back toward my room, determination settling over me. Whatever secrets this house held, about my uncle, about Lorenzo, about Julian. I would uncover them.