Lucius is right behind me, standing in my bedroom. I can feel his ragged breathing against my neck. He orders me to turn around and look at him. If I obey, I'll be lost in those icy blue eyes. If I don't… I'll die from wanting him. What the hell am I supposed to do?
I obey. I like obeying him. He grabs my waist and pulls me flush against his body. I can't let this happen. Not right now. Sarah's words echo in my head: "I'll end up married to him, and you'll probably be one of his little side pieces." Or something like that. I can barely think straight because one of his hands is already sliding under my blouse, gripping my breast hard enough to make my mouth fall open in a gasp.
I take a shaky step back, but his grip doesn't loosen. He's got me.
His phone keeps buzzing with message after message. He still doesn't let go. More buzzing.
Finally, I manage to whisper, "No… not tonight. Answer your phone. Let me clear my head. I don't want to be just another one of your girls. I'm sorry."
He releases me, takes two steps back, and glances at his screen. Then he says, "My father is performing the ritual in twenty minutes. He wants you there. Remember: keep that pretty personality of yours locked away and just say 'Yes, sir.'"
Before he walks out the door, he leans in and kisses my neck. God, I wish he'd bite me and make me his forever, like in those vampire novels…
I fall back onto the bed, heart racing, when a text from Ursula lights up my phone: "Come to the dome immediately. The ritual starts in twenty minutes."
I pick out a uniform—black jacket and skirt. I look good in the mirror, even though Lucius left my legs trembling.
The mansion hallways are buzzing like a kicked beehive. Every employee is rushing around, perfecting every last detail. I run into Manuel carrying a huge bouquet of flowers and ask him what's going on.
"It's the ritual," he says. "Mr. Longfield never comes down, but if he does, everything has to be flawless. They're letting you meet him. Be careful, Carmilla."
When I reach the fourth floor, Ursula is already waiting. She pulls me aside, straightens my collar and jacket, then says in a low voice, "Keep your head down at all times. Don't speak unless he speaks to you. Mr. Longfield says more with silence than most men do with words. One mistake and you're out. Understood?"
I'm stunned. This is the first time she's actually seemed worried about me. Why? What changed?
She answers before I even ask.
"Miss Sarah sent Mr. Longfield a message thanking him for her stay and for the… pleasant company she found here—thanks to you. Our boss intends to marry Sarah to Lucius, as you already know. If that happens this year, he'll put me in charge of the wedding preparations and promote me to associate. That means my own companies, traveling the world, and sitting at the Longfield table. Don't ruin this for me, Carmilla. So no, it's not surprising that Sarah will be visiting more often. If she likes you, I have to like you too. But don't push it."
I let out a relieved breath. Was this really happening? I could've sworn that bitter woman actually looked… happy.
Still, I was the only outsider. There were only seven people total, all in expensive suits, and the three identical blondes staring at me like I was a cockroach. I even overheard one of them mutter, "What is that intruder doing here?"
Killian arrived and stood between Ursula and me. We were all waiting outside a massive wooden door. Lucius showed up without greeting anyone and took his place by the handle. The hallway windows darkened as heavy curtains rolled down. Then the blondes started handing out candles. That's when I understood why they called it "the ritual." It looked like some strange church waiting for its god to appear.
The doors swung open. Everyone lowered their heads—everyone except Killian, Lucius… and me. I stood there like an idiot, completely mesmerized by Mr. Longfield.
I'd expected a dirty-haired, long-bearded recluse who'd gone mad after years locked away. Instead, a strikingly handsome gentleman stepped out—tall like his sons, with neatly styled silver hair, a thin mustache straight out of another era, and a body that looked like he had a private gym behind those doors. His face was beautiful, almost peaceful. He greeted his sons with genuine affection, took two steps into the circle of candles, and spoke in a deep, warm, surprisingly kind voice.
"We have more work than ever and very little time."
Pointing at a group of suited men, he ordered, "Travel and secure the shipping agreements. I want every major player docked in my ports before June."
He turned to Ursula. "Keep running this mansion exactly as you are. Make sure everything is ready for a wedding… maybe even two."
To the identical blondes, he simply gave a number, like coordinates. They didn't write it down. They didn't even move. Everything felt so… strange.
Then he walked straight toward me.
I dropped my gaze immediately. A second later, I felt Mr. Longfield's hand taking mine. Was that even allowed? I should've paid more attention to the instructions.
When I looked up, our eyes met. He had the same icy blue eyes as Lucius, but a strong, square jaw like Killian's. He asked gently, "Are you alright, dear? Did those bastards scare you badly? I'm sorry you had to go through all that."
I answered nervously, my hands fidgeting, "Scared? God, I screamed like it was a horror movie. I was terrified."
I felt the murderous stares from Ursula, the blondes, and the suited men—like I'd just committed blasphemy.
But Mr. Longfield smiled and said, "Carmilla Morris, I'm truly sorry. These things happen—less often than our enemies would like, but more often than we'd like. Are the boys treating you well?"
The question left me speechless. He was pointing at his sons, and everyone was staring at me.
I blurted out, "Killian saved me. It was so heroic… And Lucius—you won't believe this, Mr. Longfield—but Lucius actually apologized in his own way for making me feel bad about the whole social class thing. You know, you guys up here and me down there. Sorry, I'm just the new gardener. Thank you for asking. They treat me well."
Dead silence.
Then, while everyone else exchanged glances, Mr. Longfield started laughing. It wasn't forced—it sounded completely natural. He tried to stop, but laughed again, then said warmly, "Oh, Carmilla… welcome to Longfield."
Looking at Ursula, he added, "Excellent work finding her. I haven't laughed like that in… I need to see the cabin. Get it ready. Take Carmilla with you. It's been far too long."
He left the same way he came, this time with his sons. The moment the door closed, I heard all three of them laughing inside.
Could this possibly get any weirder?
Everyone blew out their candles and scattered, whispering. Everyone except Ursula, who told me, "I don't know what the hell just happened, but we've been given the most important mission—the cabin. Talk to Manuel before he leaves. He knows everything. We need to get it perfect. No one's been there in years. It was off-limits. We'll probably have to redo the entire exterior."
And she left.
I stopped by the kitchen, grabbed some food from the ever-ready spread, then walked through the gardens while Manuel told me the whole story about the cabin. It sits among the trees on the other side of the lake, hidden from this shore. Mr. Longfield and his wife built an exact replica of the Alpine chalet where they first met. It sounded so romantic… until she died, and the grief turned the place into something forbidden.
That night, while I sank into the luxurious bathtub in my room, three messages came through.
The first was from Ursula: "Allies from now on. Focus on the cabin mission. Don't screw it up. Leave the boys alone. If you do a good job, in a few years you could be in my position."
I typed, "There's nothing I want more in the world," then deleted it. Too sarcastic. Instead I wrote, "I won't disappoint you." She liked that.
The second was from Lucius. I took a deep breath and read: "You naughty little girl. You did well. I'm on a flight right now. I'll be back soon. If I see you wearing anything pink when I return… I'll have to punish you."
I won't lie—that last part sent heat rushing through my entire body. I was still imagining his voice behind me and his hand on my breast when…
Killian's message popped up: "While I'm working on my bike, I just realized I can map out every one of your freckles from memory. You're something special, little one."
And I thought exactly what you're thinking: Did this man go to college just to learn how to be that damn sexy, or does it come naturally?
There in the tub, I replied: "Working this late? I don't buy it… prove it."
He answered: "Give me a second to set the camera up in this damn garage so you believe me."
A minute later, the photo came through. The vintage motorcycle stood unfinished, parts scattered on the floor. My eyes traveled up from his work boots. He was standing, not facing the camera but looking out toward a line of shiny cars. His grease-stained jeans did nothing to hide that perfect ass. And when I saw his back—those tight, powerful muscles shifting like a wild thoroughbred that refused to be tamed—my hands started to feel like his…
But then—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I walked to the door wrapped only in a towel, breathing hard, and asked, "Who is it?"
Killian's voice came through, thick with desire:
"Hey, little one… I was thinking… you open this door, I take a shower in there, and then we have our third date in your bed…"
Yes, bestie. Of course I opened it.