Aria awoke to the soft hum of violins echoing through the grand halls of Astor Manor. The room she was in was nothing like her apartment—everything here reeked of wealth and a chilling silence that wrapped around her like a second skin.
Her fingers brushed the soft velvet of the blanket, her mind racing with questions. Why did I sign that contract? What does he really want from me?
She didn't remember falling asleep. Only the deep timbre of Zayn's voice whispering conditions in the dark.
The door creaked open.
Zayn stood there, sharp as ever, dressed in a dark button-down, sleeves rolled up, a silver watch gleaming under the morning sun. His presence filled the doorway like smoke—dangerous, smooth, intoxicating.
"I trust you slept well, Miss Lancaster?" His voice held that same teasing coldness that made her skin crawl—and tingle.
"I'm not sure if I'd call it sleep. More like temporary unconsciousness after being emotionally kidnapped," she snapped, sitting up, brushing her hair back defiantly.
He smirked. "You didn't read the fine print, did you?"
"What fine print?"
Zayn walked in, pulled a black envelope from his coat, and dropped it on the nightstand beside her. "Page twelve, clause four. 'Emotional turbulence is guaranteed. Refusal is void once consent is inked.'"
"You're insane."
"Maybe," he said, his eyes locked on her. "But I'm your insanity now."
Aria's chest rose with anger, curiosity, and a spark of something else—something darker, forbidden.
She followed him to the grand dining hall, where breakfast looked like something out of a royal affair. He didn't eat. He watched.
"Why me?" she finally asked, piercing a strawberry with her fork. "You could have anyone."
Zayn leaned forward, his tone suddenly quiet but deliberate. "Because you didn't fall at my feet. You don't worship me. That makes you... interesting."
He paused, then added, "And dangerous."
She swallowed hard.
Dangerous. The word lingered in the air like perfume.