I missed Edward. I missed his gentle touch against my skin. The way his fingers brushed my back, soft and familiar, a touch that felt entirely different from Sebastian's.
A prey being tamed.
I couldn't find the right words to describe it.
I just wanted him. My chest ached at the thought of him.
What was he doing right now? Did he still hate me?
I wouldn't blame him if he did. I would hate myself too.
The look in his eyes when Sebastian dragged me away… I couldn't forget it. I don't think I ever would.
I stood by the window, the cold breeze brushing my face. I hadn't gone downstairs as Sebastian requested. The thought of seeing him made something inside me boil. I hated how easily I had played into his hands.
Outside, the city stretched endlessly beneath me, dark yet glowing. Dimly lit, bathed in a soft glow that clung to every building and street. It was beautiful. Oddly poetic.
My gaze lingered longer than it should have.
I studied it too closely, as if it held meaning, as if something lay hidden beneath all that light and darkness. Something that wasn't there.
I could paint this. The dark world illuminated by scattered lights. I would capture every detail, every shadow, every glow with my brush.
The door opened.
I didn't turn. I didn't need to. I already knew it was him.
His footsteps came closer, steady and measured. The sound of his shoes against the floor echoed longer than it should have, syncing with the rhythm of my heart.
He stopped behind me. I felt his presence.
"Are you testing my patience?" His voice was calm, but I knew better.
"I gave an order," he said, stepping closer. "And I expect it to be obeyed."
I could feel how near he was now. The faint warmth of him made the hairs at the back of my neck rise.
"I told you I don't want to eat with you," I said, my voice sharp, refusing to turn.
A quiet, dry laugh left him.
"And you think your 'no' makes any difference?"
There it was again. That effortless dismissal of my defiance.
"Come downstairs."
This time, it wasn't a suggestion. It was an order.
I didn't move. I didn't speak. I didn't even know what I was trying to prove anymore. Maybe nothing. Maybe I just wanted one moment where I wasn't being controlled.
"You will come down this minute," his voice carried more weight now, more warning.
"No," the word slipped out before I could stop it. Sharp. Firm.
Useless. Completely useless.
My small act of bravery.
His hand gripped my arm suddenly with force. I gasped softly, startled.
Without another word, he turned and walked toward the door, dragging me with him.
I didn't fight. I couldn't. I had lost again.
He released my arm the moment we reached downstairs, as if nothing had happened.
The table was already set. Candles stretched from one end to the other in a deliberate line, their soft glow casting shadows across the room. Each plate was framed with roses arranged into the shape of a heart.
It looked romantic, but it didn't feel like it.
Not even close.
This was just another one of Sebastian's calculated moves. Servants stood nearby, dressed in crisp white shirts and black trousers, waiting in silence.
One of the maids stepped forward to guide me to my seat.
"Thank you," I said, forcing a smile that didn't reach my eyes.
Sebastian and I sat at opposite ends of the table. For that, I was grateful.
The food was already served. Steak, perfectly plated. A glass of red wine beside it. Of course, he had decided everything.
I stared at the plate, my appetite gone. The knife felt heavier than it should have in my hand.
I tried cutting a small piece, but even that felt like too much. The food sat untouched, as if I physically couldn't bring myself to eat.
I felt like I would choke.
Sebastian didn't acknowledge me this time. His attention stayed on his food.
Calm. Unbothered.
I watched him instead. The way he cut the steak with quiet precision. The way he ate slowly, deliberately, as if he had all the time in the world.
Like nothing around him mattered. Like I didn't matter.
He wasn't affected. Not even a little. And that got to me.
Why was I the only one reacting? Why was I the only one struggling to breathe in a room that felt too controlled, too calculated?
Why did I let him get under my skin like this?
The walk back to the room was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of silence that pressed against your ears, making you aware of every sound.
I didn't look at him once. I didn't trust myself to.
When we got inside, I stepped in first, moving further into the room as if distance could make a difference.
It didn't.
I turned slightly, expecting him to leave.
That was what made sense. That was what I told myself he would do.
But he didn't.
The door clicked shut behind him.
And he stayed.
Something in my chest tightened.
"You're not leaving?" I asked before I could stop myself.
My voice came out calmer than I felt.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached for his watch, unclasping it slowly, like there was no rush. Like this was normal. Like this was expected.
He placed it on the table, then loosened his cufflinks.
Still no answer.
My fingers curled at my sides.
"You have other rooms," I said, trying to steady my voice.
"I'm aware," he replied simply.
That was it. No explanation.
He shrugged off his jacket and set it aside with the same controlled ease he did everything.
It irritated me.
The way he moved. The way nothing ever seemed to affect him.
"You're not seriously planning to stay here," I said, sharper now.
He glanced at me.
Finally.
That same unreadable expression.
"You look tense," he said.
I let out a dry laugh.
"Really? I wonder why."
He stepped closer.
Then another step.
Slow. Measured.
My breath caught before I could stop it.
"You look like you're expecting something," he added, voice low and calm.
"I'm not expecting anything from you," I shot back quickly.
Too quickly.
A faint smile touched his lips. Not warm. Not amused. Just there.
"Relax," he said. "I don't touch what doesn't interest me."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Something in my chest tightened again.
"Good," I replied, lifting my chin. "Then stay on your side of the room."
For a moment, I thought that would be it.
But he didn't respond.
Instead, he moved past me, close enough that I felt the warmth of his body for a second before it was gone.
Then he walked to the bed and sat down.
Like he belonged there.
Like I didn't exist.
I stayed still, watching him.
Waiting.
The silence stretched.
Long. Heavy.
Then, just when I thought I understood him—
He stood.
I frowned slightly.
Without a word, he picked up his jacket and walked toward the door.
He stopped with his hand on the handle.
"You should get some sleep," he said without turning.
A pause.
"You'll need it."
"For what?" I asked before I could stop myself.
He didn't answer.
The door opened.
Then closed.
And just like that, he was gone.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the door, trying to make sense of him.
Of everything.
But nothing made sense.
Nothing about him ever did.