MISTRESS OF THE CITY (CITY SERIES 1)

CHAPTER 3.

I put on my sleeveless red sweater dress, which is a bit below mid-thigh, and it hugged my curves perfectly. It is not very tight, and it is not loose. Black high-heeled boots and a long black coat. My makeup is minimal, with just a lip gloss. I pick up my black purse and text Hiram that I am on my way.

His house is on the outskirts of the city. My apartment is located in the middle of the city, so without any traffic, I will be there in less than an hour. I have never visited the house, but I already have the address and have seen the pictures. I certainly hope that not all his children are like Ajax, because this will be an extremely long journey.

Traffic was at its peak. With a lot of people on their way from work, it took me an hour to drive out of the city. You could feel the change in the environment—less noise, cleaner air, and cool wind—which blew my hair. I saw fewer buildings and more trees as I got closer to his house.

As I turn off the main road, the tires gently roll over a finely compacted gravel surface, emitting a soft crunching sound. I stopped my car in front of towering, pointed black iron gates. As the gates swung open with a reluctant groan, they revealed more than just an entryway; they unfurled a passage to beautiful scenery. The tires of the car whispered a soft percussion against the gravel, a hushed rhythm marking the journey ahead. The looming trees seemed to lean in, their leafy fingers entwined above, creating a cathedral of greenery. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the pathway with ethereal patterns and painting the ground with shifting patches of light and long shadows.

The car came to rest before the grand manor of the architectural masterpiece. I knew Hiram had good taste in architecture with the way they built the DSC; his house did not fail in that department either. The soft, golden glow of the sunlight allowed the trees and grass to shine brighter. As I walked up the stone pathway toward the entrance, I couldn't help but admire the stunning gardens surrounding me. Vibrant flowers in every hue imaginable bloomed in carefully arranged patterns. The sound of my heels on the cemented concrete driveway is soothing. My relationship with Hiram has led to this particular moment; to say I am elated is an understatement. I looked at the dark brown door in front of me, and I did not hesitate before I made the final step. I raise my hand to knock, and the door flies open after the second tap.

An old man wearing a black suit was holding the door open for me. His height was in contrast to that of the door, with salt-and-pepper hair and a matching stubble.

"Miss Rodriguez," he said with a curt nod. “Welcome to the Darhk mansion." He stepped aside to let me in. I said a quick thank you as I crossed the threshold.

An impressive foyer greets me with enough space to fit my bedroom, showcasing a double staircase with black handrails that leads to the upper floors. The high ceilings seemed to reach the heavens, allowing room for magnificent chandeliers to hang like sparkling constellations. There is a small white fountain with flowing water between the double staircases. The décor for the whole room is white, which matches the midnight black color of the staircases. This house looks like it’s straight out of Architectural Digest.

"Let me take your coat," the man, who I guess is the butler, says. My body is conscious of the new environment, already aware of the distant sound of the approaching footsteps. I handed him my coat, stepping into unfamiliar territory. As I turned, Ajax filled the entrance to what I assumed was the living room. He wore black trousers and a shirt, its sleeves rolled up to reveal the strength in his arms, the fabric hugging his muscles snugly.

“Mr. Darhk.” I held his scrutinizing gaze. His eyes roamed all over my body before settling on my face.

His countenance remained unmoved as he offered, "Ajax suffices." His voice, a glacial echo, carried an air of detachment. I reflected on his icy demeanor, refusing to yield to the intimidation of his presence.

Midway through our silent standoff, a flirtatious whistle pierces the tension. Roman Darhk materializes behind him, amusement dancing in his eyes. It took a beat for me to register the unexpected company that joined us without my notice. I remain unfazed by the intrusion, rallying my focus and refusing to cave into distractions. My purpose here demands my unwavering attention.

I cannot afford any distractions.

Not now!

Roman steps away from his brother, his gaze never leaving mine. Unlike his older sibling, he exudes a carefree air in his black jeans and a simple white T-shirt. Towering over me, he stands a few inches taller.

“Why did you lie to me?" His gaze flickers between his brother and me. “She is not beautiful; she—” He halts abruptly, theatrically covering his mouth to halt the sentence. Roman shares the same physical build as Ajax, perhaps two inches shorter. "She is hot," he says in the last part as a whisper.

“How are you still an adult?” Ajax fires back.

“How are you still not frozen?” Roman retorts.

Ajax dismisses him entirely and strolls away as though the question was never posed.

“Welcome,” Roman says, extending his hand with a courteous gaze distinct from his brother's. I reach out for a firm handshake, but in his cunning manner, he slyly clasps only the tips of my fingers. Slowly, he lifts them to his lips and plants a gentle, simple kiss.

“Forgive my rude brother; he skipped etiquette skills,” he explains.

The similarities between Hiram and his sons are indistinguishable. They all have the same height and build. A broad face with chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Roman’s hair is dark with brown highlights, while Ajax's is jet black. Hiram’s dark hair, a mixture of a few silver ones, gives his attractiveness a rare edge. Roman has his father's humor and attitude; I can guess that Ajax gets his attitude and personality from his mother.

We followed his brother as my heeled boots echoed on the tiled floor with every step I took. I enter the living room, which reveals a different facet of luxury and elegance. From the lavish dining hall with its long table set for a feast fit for royalty, but amidst all this grandeur, there was also an undeniable sense of history in the air. Different portraits adorned the walls, staring down at me with their enigmatic features. The grey sofas and the cream-coloured walls complemented each other.

Aelle Darhk remained engrossed in her phone as she casually inquired, "Did she arrive?" The question lingered unanswered in the air until her curiosity nudged her to glance over her shoulder. With a graceful movement, she rose from her seat, fixing her gaze on me. Her attire, a seamless fusion of a pristine white blazer, matching shorts, and sleek black high-heeled sandals, exuded effortless elegance.

Our eyes locked in a wordless conversation. I found myself caught in the enigma of her stare, uncertain whether to decipher its intent or evade its scrutiny. She possessed an air of confidence that radiated from her every word and action. As she assessed me, her expression remained inscrutable, yet her lips curled into a genuine smile, revealing the endearing dimples that adorned her cheeks.

"I have been looking forward to meeting you," she offered, momentarily catching the sweet essence of peaches that enveloped her.

Aelle’s presence was magnetic; her aura was a blend of sophistication and assertiveness. Despite the simplicity of her words, they carried weight, echoing the self-assurance she effortlessly projected. Her eyes held a depth that hinted at myriad untold stories—an enigmatic allure that both intrigued and challenged my perception.

"I have heard so many great things about you from your father," I add. Hiram was very proud of his child, his only daughter, in particular. I could now see why she was a sight to behold.

Hiram descended the staircase; a commanding presence preceded his physical form. Each step seemed like a deliberate stride, resonating with a silent authority. A tailored charcoal suit draped his frame impeccably, its lines emphasizing his stature and confidence.

His movements were fluid, a symphony of controlled motion. A subtle air of mystery clung to him, an aura of secrets veiled beneath a veneer of composed demeanor. Every downward progression seemed purposeful, as though he navigated not just the steps but the very essence of the surrounding space.

Eyes, sharp and perceptive, scanned the surroundings, absorbing details with an almost imperceptible glance. His presence held an enigmatic allure, a captivating blend of authority and grace that silently demanded attention, leaving an indelible impression on the atmosphere long after his descent had ceased. His eyes landed on Aelle and me, and the skin around his eyes pulled together when he smiled.

With arms outstretched, he approached us with long strides, expressing his immense joy. "It would make me very happy if you two got along," he approved as his warm hand tucked both of us at his sides.

"Relax, Dad. I do not declare someone guilty without proof." She taunted Ajax, who was beginning to think he had a permanent scowl on his face.

Hiram embraced his daughter closer, offering a soft kiss on her forehead. "Let's have dinner," he urged as he led us to the dining room.