WRITER'S POV:
The guest room was beautiful.
And suffocating.A maid—barely older than Ivy—stood in the doorway with arms full of towels and complimentary soaps like she was preparing a cell in a luxury prison. She moved nervously, avoiding Ivy's eyes, mumbling instructions about drawers and light switches and water pressure.Ivy nodded numbly.
It was all marble and wood grain, soft lighting and silence. The bathroom shelves were lined with toiletries, more towels than she'd ever need, and a faint lavender scent that made her feel faintly disposable.When the maid finished, she offered a polite smile that didn't quite reach her face and left without another word. Ivy stood in the middle of the room like she didn't belong to her body anymore.
What even is this?
A job? A punishment? A promotion in the weirdest career path known to mankind?
She stepped into the hallway.
"Excuse me," she asked two passing maids. "Do you know where Monday is?"They froze.One shook her head frantically. The other whispered, "He doesn't live here," then rushed away toward the kitchen like Ivy's question might curse her.Ivy blinked.Cool.Very normal.Left alone, she wandered.The house was a quiet museum of wealth and restraint. Sharp angles, masculine finishes, glass and steel. No pictures. No memories. No warmth. Just the quiet, brutal elegance she'd started associating with Cassius.
And yet—his presence was everywhere.
The symmetry. The stillness. The control.
She rubbed the velvet of a sleek sofa in the lounge and sat, letting her fingers trail along the stitching.
That's when the voice came.
"Are you lost? Or just trying to find your way back to the kitchen?"Ivy flinched. Looked up.The woman standing at the archway was dazzling. And furious.Straight platinum-blonde hair. A champagne satin robe that screamed I live here and I drink expensive misery. Her eyes were rimmed with perfect eyeliner and just enough contempt to melt glass.Ivy stood quickly.
"I—I'm not lost."The woman looked her up and down with all the warmth of an airport security check."So what are you? Cleaning staff? Decor? One of Cassius's little assistants who thinks getting on a plane with him means something?"Ivy opened her mouth."I'm his flight—" she stopped.Bad idea. That sounded worse.The woman raised an eyebrow. "Hmm. Figures."Ivy stayed silent.The woman smiled. Tight. Dangerous."I'm Gina," she said. "Cassius and I are... complicated."Translation: We slept together once and I've decided it's a love story.Ivy gave her a polite nod. "I'm just here temporarily."Gina smirked. "Aren't we all, darling."She turned and walked away, heels clicking with dramatic, sassy precision.Ivy sat back down.Her heart hadn't slowed once.And suddenly, the house didn't feel quiet anymore.It felt like a stage.And she wasn't sure if she'd been cast—or if she was being hunted.