The car comes to a slow stop, and I'm hit with the overwhelming sight of the Montgomery estate.
I'm not sure if I should be impressed or embarrassed. The iron gates are as tall as my entire house, and the mansion in front of me looks like something out of a movie—big, pristine, and intimidating.
My heart races as I drag my suitcase behind me, already regretting the decision
to stay here.
"Come on, Amanda!" My mom's voice is bright, like she's just about to show me a new puppy. "Let's get inside"
I force my legs to move, even though every part of me wants to turn around and leave. This isn't where I belong. It's where my parents think I belong.
Apparently, they think a dose of reality is the best cure for my spending habits. Yeah, well, good luck with that.
Once inside, I'm met by a sea of marble floors, high ceilings, and expensive furniture that makes my apartment feel like a cardboard box in comparison.
I stand in the foyer, trying not to stare at the perfection that surrounds me. This isn't just a house, it's a show, a symbol of wealth and restraint. But all I feel is out of place.
"Amanda, come here, sweetie!" My mom's voice is sharp as she waves me over
to meet Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery. I plaster on a smile, my discomfort masked as
politeness.
"Amanda, this is Rosé Montgomery, and Victor Montgomery." Mom said.
"Ah, Amanda, finally!" Mrs. Montgomery greets me with a warm smile, almost as though she's been waiting for this moment for ages.
She gives me a hug, too tight, and the strong scent of her perfume almost makes me choke. "You were beautiful even as a kid, but now, beautiful is an understatement. Finally, I have a girl in the house."
"Rosé, no spoiling. She's here to learn her lesson." Mom said.
I raised my brows and the woman named Rosé laughed. "Right, right," she replied.
I force myself to relax into the hug. What
else is new? People have always complimented me. Beautiful, smart, well-dressed. But it doesn't feel real here.
"Thank you," I say, offering a half-smile as I pull away.
Mr. Montgomery, handsome as ever, I wanna date him, lol. He is gentleman too! He extends his hand to me next. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Amanda. We're glad to have you here."
As I'm about to respond, I feel a presence behind me—a heavy, almost suffocating feeling. I turn slowly and meet his gaze.
He's taller than I expected. Broad shoulders, strong jawline, dark eyes that seem to cut through me like a sharp knife. Great. Another person to judge me for my life choices.
His eyes sweep over me—appraising,
calculating. He doesn't smile. Not even a hint of warmth. His gaze is disinterested, like he's already decided everything he needs to know about me in the first second of meeting me. Classic.
I raised my brows, I'm used to guys obssessing over me, this one's different. I don't like it.
He kissed my mom on the cheeks and shake hands with my father.
"Rafael, always dashing as ever— And not spoiled." My mom said.
He smiled. I almost feel like he is mocking me.
Tsk. Whatever. I rolled my eyes.
"Rafael, why don't you show Amanda to her room?" Mrs. Montgomery says, her voice too sweet. Everyone's acting like we're old friends.
"We have plans with your parents. You'll have plenty of time to get to know
each other." She continued.
Rafael's lips barely twitch, but his eyes—his eyes are full of something else, something sharper than anything I've seen today. He doesn't even look at me as he turns to walk down the hallway.
I stand there for a moment, unsure of whether I should follow him or not. But my parents are already off to their dinner with the Montgomerys, so I have no choice but to follow.
I catch up to him quickly, but my irritation only grows. Does he think he's so special? He walks like he owns the entire place, well he do. Shoulders straight, head held high.
Everything about him screams arrogance,
and I can't stand it.
"I can find my own room, you know," I say, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. I hate being treated like I'm incapable. But it's like he doesn't hear me. He doesn't even acknowledge my words.
Finally, he stops in front of a door, pushes it open, and gestures for me to
step inside.
"This will be your room." He said, God his voice is too die for.
I walk in, but my gaze flickers back to him. "Nice," I mutter, although it feels fake even as I say it.
The room is beautiful, with its four-poster bed and rich, dark wood furniture. The curtains are plush, and the view overlooks the estate's garden. But it's too much. Nothing feels like home here.
Without even glancing at me, Rafael speaks again. "I'm sure it's not what you're used to, but you'll get used to it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
I snap, my annoyance growing. Who does
he think he is?
He turns to face me, his eyes colder now. "It means," he says slowly, "that you can't have everything you want handed to you." His lips curl into a slight, but biting smirk. "You've been living in a bubble, haven't you? I hate spoiled brats."
I feel the heat rise in my chest, the sting of his words sinking in. Spoiled. That's what he thinks of me. And for some reason, I feel like he's right—but I won't admit it. Not to him. Not to anyone.
"I'm not spoiled," I say, my voice a little shaky. "I just like nice things."
Rafael steps into the room, crossing his arms over his chest, his stance wide and dominating.
"Nice things, huh?" he muses, clearly not impressed. "I'm sure you're used to everyone catering to your needs, but here? You'll learn real quick that it's not like that."
I want to yell at him, tell him he doesn't know anything about me, but I bite my tongue. I don't need his approval. And I definitely don't need him looking at me like I'm some spoiled brat. But still, something in me shifts. Something unsettling.
"You can think whatever you want about me," I say, my voice laced with
sarcasm. "But you don't know me."
He doesn't respond, just gives me a brief look, like I'm not worth his time, and walks toward the door.
"I'll be in the study if you need anything." He sounds so disinterested, so bored, like it's an inconvenience to help me.
As soon as the door closes behind him, I stand in the middle of the room, my anger simmering beneath the surface. He's arrogant. Condescending. And I don't need him to tell me what I can and can't have.
But as I unpack my things, I can't shake the feeling that I'm not done with Rafael Montgomery yet.
Something about him, his presence, the way he spoke to me—lingers in the air
like smoke.