It fluttered—treacherous, reckless—like a bird desperate for escape.
I watched him, studied him, traced the contrasts that made up Lord Amir Hassan—his dark hair, swarthy skin, and chiseled features.A man built from shadows, mystery, and secrets too heavy to be spoken aloud.His eyes—gods, those eyes—had seen too much, held too much, yet they barely lingered on me before shifting to my father, nodding in polite acknowledgment.
“Lord Hassan,” my father greeted, oblivious to the storm raging within me.“Please, join us for breakfast.”
“Thank you.”
His voice, that low, velvety timbre, slid through the air, smooth and disarming.He moved with a grace that belied his strength, a predator who did not need to flaunt his power because it was simply there—woven into every measured step, every precise movement.
I hated that I noticed.
I hated it more that I felt it.
Despite the logic screaming at me to turn away, I couldn’t deny the pull—his undeniable gravity.The man who had stirred my soul, awakened something deep and forbidden and cast it aside as if it were nothing.
And yet, here I sat, caught between dutiful daughter and impassioned woman.
And I wasn’t sure which terrified me more.
Amir took the seat next to me.
The table suddenly felt too small, too intimate—a prison of fine china and clinking silverware.The space between us was negligible, and the brush of his knee beneath the cloth sent a jolt through my body that I pretended not to feel.
I focused on the delicate porcelain of my teacup, watching the steam curl into the air as if I could lose myself in its fleeting tendrils.But his aura was tangible, a force, shifting the air between us like a silent storm rolling in.
The maid scurried around, placing food in front of Amir, and the silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken truths, with ghosts of a past neither of us dared to name.
Then—
“I have excellent news to share, Amir.”
My father set down his cup quietly, his expression aglow with unmistakable pride.
“My daughter has decided to join our society.”
And just like that, the delicate balance I had tried to maintain shattered.
The room seemed to shrink, the air pressing in as if waiting for a reaction.
Amir’s gaze finally found mine, dark, unrelenting—ablaze with something searing through my core.I felt it like a touch, a slow caress over bare skin, igniting something dangerous within me despite my desperate attempt to remain detached.
“Really?What excellent news!”His voice was smooth, but beneath the polished words, something lurked.Surprise?Or something else?
His head tilted slightly as if weighing the truth behind my father’s declaration.“And what will you be doing, Lady Alexander?What role will you play?”
I parted my lips, a flicker of nerves coiling in my stomach?—
But my father’s voice cut through the air with the finality of a guillotine.
“She will take over her mother’s role—alchemy.Crafting poisons.”
The words landed like a verdict, a future before me in cold, absolutecertainty.
Amir reacted instantly.
His posture shifted, muscles tightening beneath the fabric of his coat, tension rolling off him like a storm gathering on the horizon.It was subtle, but I saw the smallest crack in his impassive facade.
Was that concern flickering in his eyes?Or was it merely a reflection of my unspoken trepidation?
