Chapter 13
1083 Words
****Lana's POV****
Seeing Kylian's alarm flicker so abruptly and repeatedly sent my heart racing into a frenzy. I thought something terrible had happened to him, like he'd fallen off his bed... or at least that he genuinely needed my help.
But the moment that devilish smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, I became certain I was in for a lot of trouble tonight.
I had pushed open his door without knocking and rushed straight to his side.
"What is wrong, Mr. Kylian? Is everything okay?" I asked, the fear still lingering in my eyes.
He smirked, then shrugged casually.
"Oh, there's a lot wrong, Ms. Lana. You're my private nurse, right? That means you have to attend to my urgent needs."
I nodded, slightly confused.
"Well... I need you to get me a glass of water. I'm thirsty."
I heaved a sigh of relief.
"Only that?" I asked, just to be sure.
"Yes," he replied, smiling from ear to ear.
"Alright. I'll be back in a minute."
He ignored me completely.
I hurried downstairs to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of cold water from the fridge, poured it into a glass, and rushed back upstairs.
"Here... I'll pour it for you," I said, breathing heavily as I handed him the glass.
He took one tiny sip...
...and immediately spat it out.
"What the hell?" he coughed dramatically, holding his mouth. "What is this?"
"Water?" I answered, completely confused.
"This is freezing, Lana! The weather is already cold. Why would I want to drink ice-cold water this late at night?"
"I... I..." I stammered. "But you never specified. You just asked for water, and I assumed you were hot."
"Take this away."
He shoved the glass back into my hands.
"Fine," I sighed. "I'll get you lukewarm water. Is that okay?"
He didn't answer.
Once again, I trudged downstairs, muttering under my breath as I prepared another glass of water at what I hoped was the perfect temperature.
I practically sprinted back upstairs.
Only for him to wave me away.
"I've lost the urge to drink water."
Wow.
I stared at him for a long second.
"What's that look?" he asked sweetly. "Am I frustrating you?"
I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was succeeding.
Without saying a word, I turned toward the door.
"Lana?"
I gritted my teeth before forcing another smile onto my face.
"Yes... boss."
"What did you just call me?" he asked, glaring.
Oh no.
I had forgotten one tiny rule.
Never call him boss.
Honestly, what was so wrong with calling someone exactly what they were?
In every sense of the word, he was bossy.
Grumpy.
And incredibly annoying.
Needless to say, the rest of my night became an absolute whirlwind.
I spent almost three hours in that man's room attending to one ridiculous request after another.
He wanted his bed softer.
How exactly was I supposed to make an already luxurious bed softer?
I improvised by piling on extra pillows.
Ten minutes later, he made me remove every single one.
Then he wanted the curtains opened.
Then closed.
Then halfway open.
Apparently, I wasn't adjusting them to his exact liking.
Next, he demanded I read him a book.
I was reading too fast.
Then too slowly.
Then too quietly.
By the time he complained I was reading too loudly, I nearly threw the book at him.
It was well past midnight before he finally drifted to sleep.
Even then, escaping wasn't easy.
The first five times I tried sneaking out, he'd somehow notice and call me back.
When I finally made it to my room, I collapsed face-first onto my bed.
I didn't even remember falling asleep.
---
The alarm rang again at exactly six in the morning.
My eyes snapped open at the blinking emergency light.
I rolled straight off the bed onto the floor.
For a good five seconds, I seriously considered pretending to be dead.
Instead, I dragged myself into the bathroom, took the fastest shower of my life, and somehow managed to make myself look presentable.
My eyes still burned from lack of sleep.
My legs wobbled.
My arms ached.
Standing outside Kylian's room, I muttered several curses under my breath before knocking politely.
No response.
I knocked again.
Still nothing.
"Well... damn me."
I pushed the door open.
The room was empty.
He wasn't on the bed.
Not in the bathroom.
Not in the closet.
Nowhere.
Maybe he'd gotten tired of waiting and gone somewhere.
I searched the garden.
His private study.
The library.
Every hallway I knew.
Nothing.
I stopped several maids along the way.
"Have you seen Mr. Kylian?"
Every single one answered with a cold,
"No."
Eventually, I found Ms. Paltz.
"Phew... Ms. Paltz, thank goodness."
I rushed toward her, nearly grabbing her arm before remembering she hated being touched.
"I've been looking everywhere for Mr. Kylian. I'm still not familiar with this mansion. Have you seen him?"
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then slowly shook her head.
"Poor child... what did you do this time to deserve this?"
"What was that?" I asked, blinking.
She cleared her throat immediately.
"If you think Mr. Kylian is missing..."
She adjusted her posture.
"...then look for him."
With that, she walked away as if she'd just delivered the most helpful advice in history.
I sighed.
Figures.
This really was a game of cat and mouse.
Then something clicked.
According to Kylian's profile, before the accident he loved playing table tennis.
He and Nerisse used to play almost every weekend.
I frowned.
No...
He hated talking about Nerisse.
Why would he go there?
Still...
It was worth a try.
A few minutes later, I reached the indoor tennis court.
And there he was.
Fully dressed in sportswear.
Sitting comfortably in his wheelchair.
Dozens of tennis balls were scattered across the court, evidence that he'd been launching them across the net one after another.
The moment he saw me, his face lit up.
"Oh, hey!" he called cheerfully, waving.
"I was just about to give up searching for you," I huffed.
He chuckled.
"I was actually about to call it quits..."
He leaned back with a smug grin.
"...but I guess you found me."
His smile widened.
"So... I lost."
I stared at him.
His smile was far too genuine for a man who'd spent the entire night trying to torture me.
Whatever game Kylian Rhys was playing... I had just walked into the next level.
- Writer
